The Long Road Home Book III: Exodus Ends
by Uberscribbler
Summary: The last leg of a journey home is always the hardest to complete. The obstacles never greater than those between family long separated. Continuing from Books I and II, told from multiple POVs. Genre to change later.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer of dubious wording and ironclad legality: **the principle Colonial and Cylon characters aren't mine. I'm writing this story expressly for fun and not to make a material profit. Please don't bother suing; I'm one of the 4 million working poor living in NYC.

Things are going to get a little intense here, both emotionally and maybe physically. The meeting(s) everyone has been demanding will be occurring soon, so get ready for it.

More notes at the end of this chapter.

* * *

**BATTLESTAR GALACTICA**

**THE LONG ROAD HOME**

**Book III: Exodus ****Ends**

**Part One

* * *

**

**202.5 Million Kilometers from Earth**

**Terran Battlestar **_**Olympus**_

**CIC**

**Arrival of Colonial Fleet +01:02:38**

_**(Richards)**_

"Two Raptors inbound, Sirs," someone reported somewhere in the background. While that information was already evident on the AEGIS displays, it was obscured by how the CIC was unusually crowded than normal, what with the visiting Colonials, Starbuck, Taylor, and several more Marines than the usual guards all milling about.

I was the only one not looking at it. "How many escorts?" I asked, the small stack of papers I was slowly paging through atop the planning desk holding my whole attention right then.

"Uh, three from _Nemesis_...looks like Raiders, and six from _Galactica. _Vipers."

"And in the air?"

"Sixteen Vipers, Sir. All of them flying along the projected patrol patterns."

Commodore Avery-Hunter gave a quiet snort. I was keenly aware neither he nor the rest of the command staff had been happy with the 'arrangement' I'd quickly negotiated over the wireless after finishing my opening message barely an hour earlier.

* * *

**+00:05:28 **

"Welcome home."

I couldn't help but wince as I said the words. They sounded at once inane and inadequate to the circumstances. Lt. Commander Callisto handed me a note, reporting Starbuck was returning to the Barn as previously ordered. I nodded quickly in acceptance and returned attention to the comms.

Adama, or whoever was on the other end, was taking his sweet time responding, probably trying to swallow the bombshell I had just dropped. AEGIS was reporting they were being bombarded with sensory hits, likely DRADIS pulses. None of the Colonial ships had moved or made an independent contact attempt; in all our debriefs, Starbuck had put the likelihood one of them trying it at 80-20 chance against.

Adama had apparently found his voice again. _"I…apologize, Mr. Secretary. I…we…weren't expecting to ever be greeted so…directly."_ It was an honest admission, but there was clearly more to it. As a career linguist, I could hear everything that wasn't being said. I could pick out precisely how much hope the Admiral was swallowing right then, and could hear equally well the threat that was sure to come next.

The Admiral likely had his ship at Condition One the second it had caught sight of our Vipers; and a 'friendly-fire' incident was a distinct possibility now, especially if _Galactica_ started getting bombarded with calls Adama couldn't answer right then.

I need more information, if only so I could figure out my next move. I waved for Athena and Carroq, who had been standing on the margins of the CIC right then, to come forward and take up their own headsets. They did so as I said "Admiral, we have a couple of your people from the _Nemesis _here."

"Captain Agathon here, Sir," Athena stated into her set's mike. The civilian engineer needed an extra nod of encouragement to identify himself.

"Uh, Iolus Carroq speaking, Admiral. I'm with, um, construction in Little Delphi."

"_I see,"_ was Adama's only immediate comment. _"Did Commander Tigh approve of this?"_

"He did, Sir," Athena confirmed. "You should know Admiral Rice volunteered first, and placed no conditions upon the exchange. He is presently aboard _Nemesis_ with two enlisted ratings."

"_Hmph. Are you confident this is on the level?"_

"Very, Sir."

"_Have you…have you been to the planet?"_

"Uh, no. No, Sir. We haven't moved from our current position in the last 30 hours." Athena stole a quick look in my direction. A couple upraised brows were all I could return. "They have rather…compelling evidence to back up their claim."

"_Hmph." _I couldn't help but smirk ever so slightly. Obviously, I should have taken Thrace at her word about Adama being one of few words.

"Admiral? If I may?"

"_Go ahead, Mr. Secretary."_

"I imagine you're concerned about the security of your fleet, yes?

"_Of course."_

"Then I'd like to propose the following as a show of good faith. We will land our planes, allowing yours to take over CAP."

I'm sure I heard a pin drop somewhere in the silence that resulted. It seemed prudent to keep my eyes forward and down on the planning desk right then, if only to avoid the dozen-plus eyes I felt boring into my skull. True, I knew every officer present _and_ been an active part of the building the TDF over the last decade...well, this was the first time I'd actually exercised the command authority of his position.

I wondered, somewhat idly, why my hands weren't shaking in the slightest.

Adama's voice was no less steady when it returned. _"And after that?"_

"I'm prepared to fly over to _Galactica_ and meet with you directly. Or here aboard _Olympus_." I felt a small trickle of panic when no answer was immediately forthcoming. He chuckled despite himself. "I'm sure we could even rig up something where we could meet in space if you want."

That got a response, though not the one I'd expected._ "I'll need to confer with my people aboard _Nemesis_ and with our civilian government on that one."_ Gods help him, it sounded like Adama was actually considering it. _"But we'll take you up on the first part."_

I nodded on instinct, too internally shaken do anything more. "As you wish, Admiral. I'm issuing the recall order now. We'll wait to hear your decision. _Olympus_ clear." Lowering the handset, I looked up for the first time. "Commodore, direct our birds to land."

"Aye, Sir," Avery-Hunter acknowledged tonelessly, then glanced over his shoulder. "See to it, XO. And get Engineering working on the Secretary's…other suggestion." Callisto simply nodded and moved to the nearest wall-mounted phone.

I quickly turned to Athena and asked "Any ideas what Admiral Adama will decide, Captain?"

"No, Sir. He could go either way."

"Launches from _Galactica_," one of the specialists called out.

No one said anything after that for a bit. They watched the smaller contacts from our Colonial counterpart spreading outward and taking over the patrol perimeter. I had an uncomfortable feeling there and then, one which only got worse when Starbuck marched into sight, the others parting way for her automatically. "Colonel Thrace," I nodded, noting how she was still in her flight suit and looking more than a little irritated. Likely, she'd heard the recall order for their planes, going by the look to her right then, which was giving me serious flashbacks to her waking up in Nellis two years ago.

I couldn't blame her in the slightest, but damned if she was going to vent her self-righteousness on me then and there. Our non-relationship aside, I was still plenty pissed with her own recent antics myself. Well, at least now I had seniority for a change and was determined to enjoy it while it lasted.

"Mister Secretary," the Colonel replied with commendable gravity.

I returned my attention to the planning desk. Seniority didn't mean he was suicidal. "What can we expect of Admiral Adama?"

"If he's confident of the fleet's security here, he'd be likely fly to over here himself." She glanced over to the AEGIS board and added "And since our planes are being recalled, well, I think he'll feel pretty reassured..."

"Reassured enough to actually talk to us?"

"Here's hoping," was her answer with a barely a shrug. After that, she had eyes only for the AEGIS. If matters weren't so impossibly serious, I'd have actually felt snubbed. Blasted woman.

Since none of us could do anything further for the moment, I just concentrated on paging through and reviewing the information packet we'd put together in anticipation of this day. I had written most the damned thing, so all I was doing was reviewing the Colonial syntax.

Word by word. Stuff like this always gave me a headache.

I had a bloody migraine by the time someone broke the silence. "Colonial contacts in established perimeter," reported the specialist. His name was Sorrenson, if I recalled correctly. I don't know why that was important in my mind right then; odd little things hit me at the oddest moments.

The words and pictures before me faded to nothing as I tried to plan what would come next. I didn't actually buy Agathon's uncertainty, but Starbuck at least now gave me some notion of what lay ahead. Above all else, I needed Adama and his staff to trust me...us. Whether that was even within the bounds of possibility at this point, even with the rather bold move I'd made, was really beyond me right then.

Part of me wished they would just jump away and not come back for a century or three or ten. That same part of me also wished I'd never laid eyes on that blonde hellion they'd dragged out of a burning Viper in the desert.

Thoughts like those resided alongside my rather voluminous insecurities, which I normally kept under lock and key and away from conscious consideration. Sadly, someone must have slipped them a lock pick that day.

What the hell was doing here? I wasn't a diplomat by either inclination or training. At best, I was a moderately capable linguist who had made a lucky guess concerning a strange language that had been found aboard a buried hulk in Alaska. How that translated into my being qualified to stand there and open negotiations with these people, Kara's people, escaped me. My head was pounding like a drum and all I could think about was my thin resume.

Well, however I'd gotten there; I _was_ there. Future history wasn't my concern; the 32 ships that had just appeared on our screens were. Whatever my misgivings, I had other things to concern myself with. Strangely, that small decision relieved my headache completely.

"Colonel Thrace," I called out. Starbuck deigned me with another annoyed look but came over after another look at AEGIS. Clearly, she was badly distracted right then, which I understood perfectly. I gave her an equally pointed look and asked, "Best guess as to what's going on over there?"

She snorted. "What d'you think? Probably scrambling every pilot and nugget available. Arming up the guns and training them all on us."

"Fine," I nodded, keeping my voice low as I dared. "Fine. But will all that be enough to get him talking to us?"

"Let's hope so." She swallowed whatever emotions she was feeling right then and added, "A few prayers to the Lords wouldn't hurt."

I was tempted to point out I was a Lay Wiccan and so was not inclined to pray to any deity. Theology had long been a touchy subject between us anyway; second touchiest, truth be told, not that we ever discussed the first-touchiest either. A now-familiar voice came over the comms however. _"_Olympus_, this is _Galactica _Actual."_

I yanked the handset out of its cradle and cleared my throat. "Go ahead, _Galactica_."

"_We accept your offer to meet..._aboard_ the _Olympus."

I felt like cheering, crying, and outright screaming at this. A glance at Starbuck confirmed that she was feeling the same way.

"Very well, Admiral," I heard myself saying, letting out a slow breath. "We expect any delegation to include both civilian and military representatives."

"_Of course."_

"Of course," I echoed, biting my tongue against further words. I judged it better to let the other side take the lead right now.

"_We will signal you when our...delegation...is ready to depart. Please stand by. _Galactica _clear."_ The connection was cut, but I kept the handset close for a beat longer, and then replaced it.

"Commodore?"

"Sir?"

"Better put the coffee on. We've got company coming."

Neither Avery-Hunter, nor anyone else present, so much as cracked a grin. Levity had never really been my forte, in any language.

* * *

**+01:03:16**

"Time to landing?" I asked the CIC, not knowing or really caring who answered.

"Five minutes out, Sir."

"Everything ready?" I asked the Commodore, who looked like he was ready to spit nails. At machine-gun rate. At me.

"Starboard flight pod has been set up for reception, Mr. Secretary."

"Good, fine, great." I drummed my fingers on the console beside me. "Guess we should head down there, yes?"

"We're just waiting on you, Sir." I truly admired the Commodore's ability to sneer without actually curving or curling his lips in the slightest.

"Fine, great," I muttered, then pushed myself upright. Looking beyond the others at the AEGIS board, I wondering what they saw before them right then. I wondered at how little I actually cared, but only for a single moment.

"Okay, let's go."

* * *

**De Author Seez: **Okay, so I'm trying something different here to keep the momentum going. These will be relatively short parts (I'm shooting for 2000+ words each), each from different POV. I plan to have updates ready every Monday and Wednesday, possibly squeezing in one on Friday as well.

Please keep in mind this is a truly _momentous_ event taking place for both the Colonials and Terrans. If things seem a tad slow at points, I urge you to stick with it 'cause – like Ron & David – I have a plan!(insert nefarious laugh here)

See you Wednesday.


	2. Chapter 2

_(As promised, folks. Remember: Feedack equals More fanfic!)_

**Part Two**

**+00:06:30**

_**(Starbuck)**_

I swung my bird about and began a return approach to _Olympus_ even before the order came over. Greyhound was on my four o'clock the whole way in. He was a decent wingman. Granted he was no Apollo…

I bit my tongue hard to refocus. The last thing I needed was to overshoot the landing deck because I was daydreaming.

Landing on a Terran Battlestar was a different experience from what I'd grown up on. The fact the landing deck was only two-thirds the length of _Galactica's_ launch pods aside; it was also completely open to space. I found it hard not to get distracted by the open star fields surrounding us during landing. It had happened to me only twice and I was not anxious to repeat the experience. Weird as I'd never been prone to any kind of vertigo or spatial displacement before.

Thankfully, I had the local FCO to keep me distracted. _"Black Alpha, you cleared for approach track one."_

"Approach track one confirmed, _Olympus_." I bumped the speed on my approach and extra 10 mph, keeping my vector within the margins the whole while. Greyhound, ever the good wingman, took an extra second to match me perfectly. Apollo would have known what I was doing before I even did it.

"_Black Alpha, be advised you are accelerating to yellow. Cut speed to…"_

"Roger that, _Olympus_ Flight Control," I interrupted. "Accelerating to yellow and cutting speed." Which was the text book definition of a 'contradiction in terms' if ever there was. I hit my burners, increasing my speed while keeping my approach steady. The trick to this was keeping my plane's nose steady, which in itself wasn't nearly as easy as it looked as the Mark Vs stabilizers had a tendency to overcompensate. You could find yourself suddenly flipping a good 45 degrees in any direction if you weren't careful. Well this was supposed to be a shakedown cruise.

I counted to five, and then cut my engines completely, allowing raw inertia to carry me the rest of the way. This was a violation of at least six separate flight regulations and by rights should have gotten me written up and busted down to a knuckledragger. Not that any of the Brass back earthside would dare doing so right now. Lords of Kobol but I loved my job some days.

My skids hit the landing deck with a small jolt. I kept my finger on my afterburners, ready to hit them if the magnet clamps underneath me failed. If they did, I'd be off the deck and out of the way of any other incoming landings. Stuff like that hadn't been as much a concern in the Colonies, mainly because we'd had bigger landing sites with plenty of crash space and a lot more experience flying extra-atmo.

Fortunately my skids stayed deckside and my plane came to a graceful enough halt, which actually translated into what felt like a neck-breaking lurch as all forward movement ended abruptly. How the frak these people managed to avoid killing themselves doing this I'd never know.

I powered down as Flight Control taxied Greyhound and me across the deck to waiting elevators. The Terrans were big on keeping things simple, which saved me time on pre-flight checks. Do a quick walk-around the outside of the plane, climb in, flick a few switches, make sure the power was on, and then leave the deck crew to do its job.

Post-flight was even simpler; just make sure the engines are cold by the time the plane was lowered to the servicing deck and wait for the Crew to put the ladder alongside. I did my bit and popped the seals on my flight helmet. The Terrans had copied the flight suit they'd reportedly found me in down to the microweave of the fabric. I'd honestly thought Admiral Rice had been joking with me when they'd first shown me the barely-durable pressure suits their pilots had been using up to then.

The CPO of the Deck was a husky side of beef called Orin. Reportedly he was from somewhere called Swee-dyn and if he had a given name, I didn't know it. What I did know was that he was as reliable as a planet's orbit when it came to maintenance of the planes and their pilots. He had taken an almost proprietary in me and mine specifically, refusing to let virtually anyone else so much as touch a servo from my Viper.

I was therefore surprised when it was one his ratings that climbed up the ladder and open the canopy. I had to wrack my sleep-deprived brain for his name but came up dry. "Whus up, Specialist?" I asked to cover my ignorance.

"Don't know, Colonel," the boy shook his nearly white mop, his accent putting me in mind of an Aerilon free-stater with a speech impediment. "Chief orders we get you an' Major out of the way."

It took me several seconds to process what the Specialist had said given English wasn't my first or even second language. My confusion only worsened when the words finally registered. Orin ran his deck and crew like a tuned instrument; I would have bet no-one's heart rate had so much as jumped when I called Case ZULU, never mind the usual bustle-and-hustle of landing and servicing entire wings of Vipers.

Right then, it looked like Orin had called out all three shifts of Specialists and ratings. The majority were standing idle at their stations while the rest were milling about nervously. What the frak had I missed? Orin was across the floor, barking off orders I couldn't even begin to comprehend, so I got out of the crew's way as they pushed my plane back into its service cradle and made my way over to my wingman.

Greyhound was quicker off the mark than I was. "Is it just me, or does the Chief seem to be nervous about something?" The CPO in question was positively turning the air blue, directing dozens of crew on two dozen different tasks all at once.

"Better get out of the way," was all I could mutter when I spied Taylor marching forward with a full brace of Marines. Taylor was the only one not in full tactical gear. The three of us exchanged salutes, but Taylor clearly had eyes only for me.

"Colonel, the CO and SecState wants you upstairs ASAP."

"Of course they do," I drawled as I pulled my gloves off and tossed them into my helmet, which quickly found its way into Greyhound's hands. "Debrief the wing. Tell Panther she's getting choppy on her turns."

"Gotcha, boss."

"I'm not…never mind." The running joke-argument between us was so old it had more wrinkles than the Old Man. That thought made me freeze for an instant, long enough to worry Taylor.

"Colonel?"

"Nothing. Let's move." It took most of my concentration to keep moving one foot in front of the other. _They're here! They're here! They're here!_ was the only thought that kept bouncing in my mind.

_They're here!_

I felt terrified and elated as never before. Even sitting beside Momma on her deathbed as I flew into the maelstrom or sighting the zodiac in the Nevada sky for the first time paled in comparison.

_They're here!_

"What the frak is going on here?" I demanded on autopilot, having had to make a hole for another contingent of enlisted ratings hustling somewhere.

"SecState's given _Galactica_ the perimeter. We're recovering our planes."

Sounded like Ben had decided on the 'safety' approach to the Old Man. We'd come up with several ideas over the last two years, but given neither of us dreaming we'd live long enough to see them tried out the details had always been a little sketchy. "All our planes?"

"All of 'em." _That_ brought me up short.

"All as in _all_?" I shook my head before Taylor answered as I needing no confirmation. Benjamin Francis Richards frakkin' strikes again. If a gesture like that didn't impress the Old Man and whoever the President was (Lords of Kobol, _please_ let it still be Roslin) into at least talking, I was personally going to fly to _Galactica_ and blow their frakking brains all over the DRADIS consoles.

Unless it was Apollo in charge over there, in which case I would settle for just castrating him. I could always claim it off as proper retribution under Old Scripture.

We arrived in the CIC just in time to hear Specialist Sorrenson report launches from the _Galactica._ I exchanged two-word pleasantries with Ben and spent the rest of the time twisting my thumb ring back and forth while watching AEGIS. I was seriously torn between wanting to smack my nominal civilian superior upside the head and just jumping back into my Viper and flying myself to the Bucket. The only thing stopping me was doubtlessly sitting quietly in Conference Room Abel right then.

That, plus the fact I didn't want to get air locked.

At some point Ben and I talked again, with Ben doing most of the talking and me giving non-committal answers. At least I think that's what happened. My head was too much awhirl to concentrate on anything other than the single massive contact on AEGIS. I also think I jumped when the Old Man finally called back and confirmed he'd come aboard _Olympus._ Thankfully I was suffering from delayed shock at that point and didn't even try to pick up a handset. Lords alone know what might have come out of my mouth right then.

True to form, Ben cracked a bad one about putting on the coffee for company. Or something like that. He gave me a look and stated "Better get changed, Colonel." It had the patented _disobey and die_ tone that he'd employed occasionally over the last of couple years to keep me from doing anything terminal or stupid.

I gave him a short nod, seeing the order for what it was. No point in meeting my former CO looking like I'd just climbed out of the cockpit. Admittedly I'd look more like the Old Man would likely remember me that way, but I guess everyone has to grow up sometime.

"Blues or grays?" I asked.

"Blues. No sense in looking too formal right now."

Taylor and his Marines escorted me back to my vault of a cabin. My reserved Lieutenant from Sigh-Gon or wherever had been her usual efficient self and made the usual clutter completely vanish **S**he was a damned savior like that, even if she boycotted the bed. I had no doubt I could find every piece of debris somewhere in the room, neatly stacked or stashed.

Rather than woolgather further, I quickly shucked out of my flight suit and grabbed the first pair of dress blues I could reach. I probably set a speed record changing, to the point I was doing up my jacket, adjusting my belt, and tying my shoes all at once. My laces weren't tied exactly to regulation and I'd never be able to place my beret so it sat properly on my head, but at least I was presentable.

Or hoped I was. I realized I had no idea who would be shuttling over; likely Ben and the others didn't either. It could be Tom-frakking-Zarek and oh Lords, won't that be fun? The prospect of watching Zarek and Ben tear each other apart verbally, while amusing in some strange sociopathic way, meant I'd be left to deal with whoever survived. _Plus_ whoever else was aboard the Raptor.

There was no better incentive to getting my butt in gear. I practically sprinted out of the cabin and damn near collided with one of Taylor's men. "Omph. Sorry," I breathed, turning to Taylor, who hung up a wall phone. "The visitors arrive yet?"

"Starboard landing pod, Colonel. SecState and reception are already en route."

I hoped to the Gods Ben wasn't planning on having the whole meeting take place there. It was unlikely, but he was the unpredictable sort who just delighted in pulling bunnies out of his non-existent butt. For all I knew he'd originally suggested meeting the Admiral in pressure suits half-way between us all.

"Let's move," was all I could say, and the five of us were marching again.

* * *

**+01:09:50**

We'd had to jog hard to reach the landing bay, passing Marines in duty dress throughout, each of whom snapped to attention as we passed. I couldn't help but envy these kids as they likely had no real clue what was happening or who was coming. It was likely an unfair thought, but there it was and I was too scared to give a frak.

Our entourage barely made it past the attached pilot's room when the FCO's voice came over the speakers. _"Colonial Raptors have landed. Crews on Elevators Five and Six, stand by."_

"Two Raptors? What the frak?" I muttered as I approached Ben and company. I threw him a salute, one that nearly knocked my beret off, but wasn't able to keep from glancing upwards. Ben noticed this and took me aside.

"Hold them there," he shouted, moving me none too gently back. "I want you inside Deck Control and out of sight." He had a wireless ear-bob in hand and was quickly settling it in his left auditory canal, handing me its twin as he did. "Tune into Secure Channel Four once you're up there. I want your eyes on whoever steps out of those planes before I take a step."

A sensible enough step. "I hope you don't want a full biography…"

"Just tell me who I'm speaking to before I open my mouth."

_Good luck with that _nearly made it through my brain and out of my mouth. Fortunately the Secretary of State turned away and waved to the Commodore, who in turned signaled the ratings in the Deck Control booth. Servos whined as the elevators began their descent. I knew from experience how slow those things were, but I wasn't about to dawdle. With my luck this would be the one time the Deckies properly synchronized the hatches between the landing and servicing decks.

I climbed the ladder leading to the Control booth and let myself in, making sure the door clicked shut and was properly sealed. Ben obviously had been thinking ahead; Deck Control was both environmentally sealed and reinforced to the point it could take a direct hit from anything in the on-board arsenal and not crack. If worse came to absolute worse, at least I'd be safe in here.

Then again, if worse came to absolute worse, 'safe' would be a very relative concept.

"Five by five, copy?" I spoke quietly so not to disturb my temporary roommates.

"_Reading you five by five,"_ Ben's slightly distorted toned in my ear. _"Elevators are down and I'm staring at two very scary looking planes."_

"Funny. Never thought of 'em that way." I concentrated on the scene unfolding below, working hard to keep my breathing even. No point in scaring the enlisted ratings with just how anxious I was. Thankfully the happy-girl voice in my head had gone mute by then.

The Raptor on the left opened its hatch and I balled both fists, resting them on the edge of the panel before me as I leaned forward. I prayed I wouldn't cause it things shake too badly.

First out were a couple of Colonial Marines, followed by Guarland and Lewis, who were carrying the 'party favor' between them. No one else was immediately in evidence leaving me to wonder…

"_Thrace?"_ the Secretary hissed into my ear.

"Er, sorry," I stammered, momentarily flustered. "Don't recognize either of the Blackjackets. The two with the nuke between them are ours. Hopefully Admiral Rice…ah, here he comes." Sure enough, Ted Rice folded his stocky frame through the Raptor's hatch that same moment. He lingered there just long enough for all present to get a clear look at him, after which he moved on to allow the next and presumably last passenger out of the bus.

"Major Karl Agathon. Call-sign Helo and XO of the _Nemesis_." I frowned and wondered aloud "Why is he here and not Tigh?" Before Ben could chide me again, the other Raptor opened and I was back to my running commentary.

"Okay, the standard brace of Blackjackets. The lady bringing up the rear is Gunnery Sergeant Harridan. She's their boss. Guy in the suit is Tom Zarek. He was the Vice-President of the Colonies when I…uh, oh. There's the Old Man, er, Admiral Adama…" I squinted and leaned further forward, not entirely believing what I was seeing.

"What the frak?"

* * *


	3. Chapter 3

_(and off we go again. Read, review, and commence screaming!)_**  
**

**Part Three**

**+01:07:01**

_**(Adama)**_

"Admiral?" Racetrack called from the front She'd insisted on my staying back with Zarek, Harridan, and the Marines when we launched. A good passenger doesn't argue with the bus driver, so I did as I was told. I'd even gone as far resist the urge to look over Paddock's shoulder at the DRADIS.

Our Raptor approached the Terran 'battlestar' at 50 power, allowing our Viper escorts to keep the lead. Racetrack kept us steady throughout, bringing us alongside the Raptor from _Nemesis _and its escorts. This at least gave me a ready distraction from having to look at Zarek any longer than necessary, although my irritation with Saul (who was somehow _still_ missing aboard his own ship) made for a poor substitute.

I could only hope the contingency orders I'd left with Gaeta back on _Galactica_ were enough if this turned out to be massive trick. Rather than dwell upon things beyond my control I moved forward and settled myself in the co-pilot's station, giving me my first look at this so-called 'battlestar'.

I was hard-pressed to see the resemblance between the elegant lines and construction of_Galactica _anywhere in the monstrosity we were approaching. The main hull was roughly cylindrical in design, flaring ever so slightly in the middle and tapering at both ends. What I presumed was the aft section was a trio of rectangular blocks that must have been engines of some sort.

Then there were the flight pods on either side, which were flat-topped shapes that put me in mind of ocean-going warships from antiquity, right down to how their hull appeared more akin to inverted pyramids. I couldn't imagine how many planes of any size or description could be stored, never mind launched from such a structure. If not for Agathon's report, I'd have thought the whole thing was a bad joke.

"Sir?" Racetrack asked. "Flight control is directing us to land on the deck of their starboard flight pod. Shall I commence approach?"

"Go ahead," I nodded, wondering a moment later what would have happened if I'd declined the directive. "Communicate to them thatboth our Raptors will be landing."

"Aye, Sir." After that, I tuned everything else out and concentrated on catching what details I could of the ship itself. What looked like unusually large barreled turrets lined either side of the landing deck, and the sides of the central hull were anything but smooth. It might have been idle imagination, but I would have sworn I saw old-fashioned rivets there and elsewhere. What the frak kind of construction processes were these people using?

I watched as running lights came to life on the landing deck, Racetrack and her counterpart from _Nemesis_ easily following them and bringing us in to land gently, wondering all the while how the pilots who used this ship would handle an actual combat situation.

A small but noticeable shudder passed through us all the second we'd set down, followed by our ship being pulled gently forward. Racetrack spoke into her comm set, clearly ready to give holy Hades to whoever was pushing us in Lords knew what direction. "_Olympus_ Flight Control...oh, uh, understood." She turned to me with an apologetic shrug. "Um, we're being 'taxied' to the elevators, Sir. This is apparently SOP."

"How are they…towing…us?" I recalled similar procedures when I trained planetside in the Mark II's fifty years back. Back then, it was a scaled mock-up of the _Columbia_-class flight pods and involved steam-powered catapults to simulate the launch tubes. I hadn't seen any arrestor cables or other anachronisms thus far.

"Um, it looks like some kind of magnetics, Sir. They haven't said."

"I see." Of course, they wouldn't come out and explain how their machinery worked, would they? They'd be prize idiots if they did. Our movement did give me a moment to examine the gun turrets lining the deck's edges. The barrels only seemed thicker because they were in fact multi-barrel guns like the ones the Fleet had started mounting on support ships and battlestars. _Galactica_ would have likely gotten the same treatment eventually if she hadn't been so close to retirement to begin with.

I had no idea if the sight was reassuring, or what this meant for our people. The outright shock of the greeting we'd received was still too fresh to process much more…, which in retrospect was likely the only thing that was going to save Saul and the Agathon 's from having me throttle the life out of them. I was simply too numb to feel any sense of betrayal or even simple irritation at them right then.

As our Raptor was settled onto the elevator, Racetrack received another call from Flight Control. "We're going to be waiting a few moments, Sir."

"They say why?" Zarek asked, poking his head forward.

"Er, no." I declined to make any move to signal the slightest bit of disapproval of Racetrack's tone towards our senior civilian representative. This was really more for Zarek's safety than Edmunson's; with our current run of luck, I'd snap out of it and take out my frustrations on the Sagittarian officeholder. I might have done so simply for all the agony he'd been putting Laura through the last year. Coming out of a Raptor with bloodstains all over my uniform was hardly the sort of first impression one wanted to make with our new-found cousins. I was having misgivings enough just bringing a handful of Marines alone as it was.

It was only a few seconds later that the elevator began to lower us. A quick glance confirmed the Raptor from the _Nemesis_ was likewise being lowered in. I kept my eyes fixed forward, occupying my mind by trying to discern further details of the ship's construction from the walls outside. Besides an abundance of rivets – something so archaic my mind all but refused to accept it – I couldn't make out anything of interest.

I estimated we descended maybe five metras before emerging into a poor man's replica of the _Galactica_'s hanger deck. Harsh fluorescent lighting reflected off the off-white walls and floors, all of which were surprisingly free of oil or other stains. Either everything had been done over for our benefit, or the crew of this ship was positively machinelike in keeping their surroundings pristine.

I was still more surprised at the presence of several aircraft I would have sworn were Mark VII Vipers. A second look dispelled this illusion, though our planes came off looking worse for it. These ones were sharper and sleeker models than anything we'd flown since before the Attacks. If they really were DRADIS-invisible, as Helo had suggested...

Thankfully, I didn't have time to think too much on this point; the elevator we rode completed its descent. "Power down everything except the wireless, Captain," I ordered needlessly; the President and I had agreed how this would play out before we left. In theory anyway; I couldn't shake the unsettling feeling was missing, something in plain sight.

"Sir?" Racetrack asked as she pulled off her helmet.

"Hmm?"

"_Nemesis_ One is requesting they disembark first. Let them scout the terrain."

"Permission granted," I nodded. Edmunson cupped her ear and murmured into her headset. Zarek had leaned forward again and addressed me.

"I'm not sure that's wise, Admiral."

"Politics are your area, Mr. Vice-President," I politely reminded him, turning to face him directly. "But keep in mind I'm in charge of this delegation..."

"Until you are convinced the safety of the Fleet is assured. Yes, I was there, Admiral." And it hadn't been a pleasant meeting either, despite being it held in my cabin. The only point of agreement on all sides from the outset was that the President would stay put aboard_Galactica_; everything else was lost in the resulting shouting match. We'd probably still have been there if Laura hadn't told us all to shut up, then had a massive coughing fit that left her doubled-over and nearly unconscious.

It was bad enough Laura was weakening by the day and spent most of her time on my couch. I sometimes wondered if anyone bought the excuse that this was only for her protection anymore, given the Sadeim's attack on her was over a year and a half ago. It was an absolute miracle how we'd managed to keep what happened to Foster and Anders quiet. I had no idea how the Fleet would have handled the news, never mind what effect its public airing would have had on Laura. I didn't want to find out either.

Witnessing her latest attack was enough to drive the wind from everyone's sails, mine especially, and terms were quickly agreed to: I'd lead the delegation, which would include Zarek and one other, with as much Marine protection as possible. Helo would return the 'exchange personnel' in order to participate in the discussions, leaving Saul (if he ever bothered to reappear) aboard _Nemesis_ and Gaeta on_Galactica _to take over if worse came to worst. I would remain in charge of contact from our end until I was satisfied we weren't walking into an ambush.

The fact the Terrans had been so quick to offer in pulling their planes from the sky and allow ours to take over suggested they were very confident in their position over us. That, or they had an absolute amateur running the show. Either prospect was frightening enough.

I'm not normally one to second-guess my command decisions. However, watching two men in tan uniforms slowly emerging from the other Raptor, carrying a box marked with the nuclear trefoil, I was starting to wish we'd packed one of the cores of our own nukes. Fair is fair, right? Laura likely would not haveapproved.

Once Helo was in sight, having exited after presumably my Terran counterpart, I ordered Racetrack to open our own hatch. "Harridan and the Marines go first," I directed. "The Vice-President next, followed by myself."

The last member of our delegation spoke up for the first time. "Shouldn't I go first, Admiral? I mean, given I'm more…durable."

I quickly shook my head. "Need you to watch our backs, especially if this is some kind of trap." Zarek looked ready to protest, but apparently thought better than to antagonize her. My choice of pronoun didn't go unnoticed either. If Harridan or any of her Marines were rankled even slightly by the suggestion they needed back up, least of all from a defector Cylon, no one showed it.

We filed out of the Raptor as I directed. This gave me precious moments to size up what kind of reception awaited us. There were uniformed figures lining the walls, their tan uniforms not unlike those worn by the two men from the other Raptor. The Terran Admiral who had followed them now stood with his fellows before us, their dark-colored uniforms so similar to our own I didn't know what to think.

Everything I saw suggested more and more we were being had, led into something dangerous, even while every instinct I had told me such wasn't the case. That this was all for real.

That we'd truly found the thirteenth colony.

I refocused myself on the welcoming party, completely tuning out the planes and men surrounding us: three men and one woman in uniform, all flanking the only civilian in sight. Neither they nor we made any move to close the distance between us all.

The solidly built one on the side suddenly barked out something in his native language, this in turn prompting a line of about a dozen tan uniforms to march forward and form an Honor Guard. The same office called out, this time in Colonial "Visiting Officers on the Deck. Atten-shun!" The Honor Guard snapped to as their commander ordered, holding their archaic-looking rifles before them. I stole a glance at Helo, who looked as chagrined as I felt right then appearing in just our dress blues.

"Harridan, secure the Raptors," I ordered over my shoulder, careful to keep the welcoming committee in sight. "Major, Mr. Vice-President, with me." I didn't wait for either to reply, instead commencing my short march past the attending soldiers. Ten strides were all it took.

Ten strides that felt like I'd marched across all twelve colonies and beyond without stopping once for breath.

"I'm Admiral William Adama," I stated to the solitary civilian, giving him my sharpest salute.

The civilian nodded politely as the officers surrounding him returned it. "Benjamin Richards, Secretary of State for the United Nations." He extended a steady hand towards me, which I grabbed on reflex. "Welcome home, Admiral," he said in perfect Colonial.

It felt for a moment as if the universe itself breathed a sigh, whether of relief or anxiety I couldn't say.

Releasing his firm grip, I stepped slightly to the side and introduced the rest of my party. Richards showed no reaction to either Helo or Zarek, then I turned to identify the fourth member of our party. "This is Ms. Caprica." That was the extent of my introduction, one that somehow elicited a half-second flinch from the Secretary.

He stared hard at her for several long seconds before nodding sharply. No comment, explanation, or apology was forthcoming for his reaction, so I filed that away for later discussion and concentrated on our host.

"Welcome aboard to you all," he said, introducing his own officers. I wasn't familiar with what a 'Com-moh-door' was, felt a tremor of surprise at the XO's full name, and decided I preferred Secretary Richards to the barely-leashed energy pouring off both Admiral Rice and Major Taylor.

Silence reigned a short spell once introductions were done, each of us sizing the other up. It was Secretary Richards who broke it, sounding somewhat peeved. "Pleasant as it would be for us all to remain standing here and just stare at each other; may I suggest we go somewhere more conducive to actual discussion? There are a great many issues we need to go over."

"Agreed," I nodded. Zarek made similar noises while Caprica and Helo stayed silent.

"Very well. Admiral, Commodore? Shall we go?" He turned and headed off without waiting for an answer. I found myself trailing after him, wishing not for the first time Laura could have been there instead of me. I didn't need to look back to know everyone else had fallen into line behind me.

I marshaled myself and all pride, resolved to get control over these talks when we got to wherever Richards was leading us right then.

* * *

**+01:41:18**

"I believe you know Colonel Kara Thrace."

I barely heard Richard's calm statement, my vision narrowing on the...person...who had just walked into the room.

So many things suddenly made sense – Helo and Athena's odd behavior from the start, the perfect Colonial these people spoke, a dozen small hints Richards had been dropping for the last half-hour – all of it now perfectly logical.

More...logical...than the person…the _thing_...standing there now...barely a metra away...

It felt like a hammer blow to my chest.

I was out of my chair, upsetting the briefing papers we'd been going over, all but vaulting around the table and slamming the..._thing_...against the wall behind her.

Her throat was in my hands, my lips by her ear, before anyone else could move.

"What the _frak_ are you?" I demanded – perhaps I hissed it, perhaps screaming it – all the while my fingers tightening involuntarily.

* * *

_(yes, I know this is very, VERY mean of me. See you all Monday!) _


	4. Chapter 4

_(My beta-reader worked her usual magic and cleaned this a bit, so here's part four again)_

**Part Four**

**+01:12:47**

_**(Caprica)**_

Whoever these people were, they were clearly first-rate engineers. Just from the few seconds view I'd had of their Vipers, I could already spot a good dozen differences in the designs of the fuselage that were a distinct step up from the Mark VII's. I wondered if they had in-built FTL capability, but quickly left that for another time. Intelligence-analysis on the surrounding hardware wasn't my function right then.

The twelve of us each had our specializations. However, we were gifted with enough intelligence to perceive connections and make associations beyond our supposedly narrow field of vision. My model, the sixth developed, was meant to be the analysts of data and patterns detected by Models Three through Five. Somehow, we ended up utilizing that analysis for things such as infiltration and sabotage, though how we made that jump I can't say.

Humans have such a poor understanding of how the Twelve Models operate. At worst, they think we're all marching to a single line of programming code like clockwork. Yes, we're all manufactured _en masse_ and yes, we all have more or less the same base genetic codes determining our physiology. We even used to operate by consensus; every issue debated every bit as ferociously as in the Lower Forum before we attacked, a decision coming only after all sides had been heard and all angles examined.

But New Caprica had shattered all that in ways I doubt my many 'siblings' had even begun to grasp when I departed. Our happening upon the _Nemesis_ as we had, finding what we did, suggested strongly that they finally had.

There had been an element of personal calculation in my decision to defect with Athena; that I was forced to killed Boomer, who had become closer to me than Gaius or D'anna ever had, was an impromptu act and not wholly my own choice. She was after all threatening to hurt Hera, who was all that mattered anymore.

At least that's what I'd tell myself at night.

That all said, I set my mind to gleaning insights into our hosts. I noticed immediately how this 'Secretary of State' reacted upon the Admiral introducing me; as if _I_ were the only one he was actually surprised to see. He was also the only one wearing an earpiece of any sort, presumably some kind of communication device. Odd, as I would have expected them all to have them if they were standard issue; evidentially it wasn't in this case.

I had already concluded that Colonial was not the native language of these people; their diction was too precise and their use of idiom almost nonexistent. This of course, begged the question of how they could know own language sufficiently to hold a conversation, however stilted.

Com-moh-door Avery-Hunter and his XO held themselves with the sort of over-attentive attention I'd come to associate with newly-commissioned pilots. The Terran Admiral was a slightly different story, carrying himself with greater ease. The Marine officer beside him moved nothing but his eyes, taking in each of us and assessing what manner of threat we presented; I doubt he was capable of seeing us as anything else right then.

Turning my attention back to Secretary Richards, as he was the one the uniforms were all deferring to, I tried to work out my conflicting impressions of him. His narrow shoulders were hunched ever so slightly, as if he were girding himself against some oncoming violence. Yet his expression was a man relaxed to the point of sleep. He stared at them all, myself in particular but _without_ appearing particular about it, through square-rimmed glasses that lent him an academic look.

This man was excited and terrified all at once, yet doing a remarkable job of controlling it. I'd never actually seen the like before. Gaius had always run hot or cold, manic or depressive; he'd been unbalanced from the start and my presence in his life hadn't helped any. My still-present wish to kill him was more out of a sense of deranged mercy than any desire for vengeance.

At length, Secretary Richards turned to lead us all off the hanger deck and into the ship itself. I was grateful for this as I couldn't shake the feeling of…being watched. Perhaps I was simply projecting over the fact I resided in a cage aboard _Galactica_.

Perhaps the third figure I spied in the control booth overhead, the one who appeared to duck back when I glanced over my shoulder as we left. Everyone aboard _Galactica_ had gotten positively jumpy since Foster and Anders had been 'discovered'; apparently, I wasn't immune to it any more than the President was.

Thinking of Laura, I offered God a silent prayer that these people would have the means to save her. She may have taken to speaking with the long dead, but I had already resolved neither Billy nor Elosha would take her from us until our journey was finished.

Returning to my immediate surroundings, I took careful note of the architecture and construction we walked through. There was a…unrefined nature to the corridor. The labyrinthine interior of _Galactica_ and the Basestars I was used to were nowhere near as claustrophobic as the narrow, barely-adorned walls we now walked through. There was no carpet to soften the grated floor underfoot, the light echoes that resulted from each footfall proving every bit as disharmonious as if someone were attacking an amphitheatre full of wind chimes with a hammer. It all struck as crude and ultra-utilitarian.

Fortunately, we quickly arrived at what I presumed was our intended destination: a simple hatchway like those on _Galactica, _with two uniformed Marines standing at attention on either side of it. Secretary Richards stepped up to them and said something in an unintelligible language. The Marine's only response was to tap an entry code into the small keypad by the door, which audibly clicked as what sounded like heavy locks releasing within it.

The door cracked open slightly after this, the other Marine quickly stepping over and pulled it fully open. No easy task going by the thickness of the door itself, which looked more like something for a high-security vault than a simple hatchway. I'd only seen the like in high-security vaults and facilities I and my siblings had come across in the aftermath of the attacks. This gave me some inkling what might await us inside.

It was no surprise, to me at least, when Richards then led us into a perfectly normal looking conference room. Spartan by most standards, it looked positively opulent compared to the hanger deck and corridor: wooden-paneling on the walls, padded chairs, and a U-shaped table of dark wood. The lighting was softer as well, which was rather a relief from the barely-shaded lamps outside.

Everyone filed inside; I went in last. Something caused me to pause momentarily, but it wasn't for anything more than the sound of marching feet somewhere behind us.

Once we were all inside, Secretary Richards casually moved over to a small table set up to the side, where a number of pitchers and small trays filled with breads and pastries were set up. He poured himself a steaming cup of some strong-smelling liquid. "I hope you'll forgive my lack of...formality. I am coming off several days of trade negotiations with a collection of...idiot Mandarins stuck in...well, never mind." He waved towards the table. "Coffee, tea? Please help yourselves."

He took a seat away from us and focused on the ceiling. I saw for the first time the raw fatigue that was eating at him, uncertain what this meant or what to think of him now. The other Terran officers, save Major Taylor who remained near the door, made their own selections and took chairs on the Secretary's side of the table.

None of my delegation moved to follow their example, not that I blamed them. For all we knew the stuff in any of those pots was raw acid. Given I was the most durable of us all – in theory anyway – I took the lead and walked over to the table, picking up one of the ceramic mugs there and poured a half-mug worth of the same beverage Richards had chosen. With all eyes on me, I took a sip, visibly surprised at the rich flavor of it. "My...compliments, Mr. Secretary," I said appreciatively and turned to my people. "Coffee, Admiral."

"Espresso, actually," Richards said, appearing somewhat livelier than a moment ago. "I'd advise against full mugs of the stuff."

I nodded in confirmation. This was strong stuff, so much so that even I could feel it. I left what little was left in my mug and picked up one of pastries, waiting for the Admiral, Major and Vice-President to follow the example. They did so, albeit very cautiously. Helo went first, followed by Adama and Zarek. This was the first time I noticed the small folder the Major had with him, filing that bit away for later consideration. Moving over to the table and taking my own seat, I saw there was a slim binder sitting before each chair. It was hard to resist the urge to open the one before me; somehow, I did so and waited for the others to join me.

Only when they did so did Secretary Richards refocus on us. His gaze raked over the four of us, lingering longer on me than the others, Adama included. I wondered what the significance of his interest might have been; I knew enough human mannerisms to perceive there was nothing sexual behind it.

Coming to some internal decision, he opened the discussion again. "Well, once again we could just sit in silence and drink ourselves into an early, caffeine-soaked grave. Or you could just ask the question obviously on your minds."

I kept my peace, waiting for the Admiral to take the lead. He took a slow, measured sip from his own mug (he'd chosen to drink from a different pot than myself) and met the Secretary's eyes. "Precisely how much did Commander Tigh and his staff brief you? You seem to know a great deal about us, Mr. Secretary."

Admiral Rice answered, "The Commander and his crew didn't part with anything significant, Admiral. Merely that you were a refugee fleet seeking safe harbor."

"Where is Commander Tigh?" Richards jumped in.

"Commander Tigh is remaining aboard the _Nemesis_. You should know I've left orders for my ships to take any action they deem necessary to safeguard our civilian population."

The Secretary nodded tiredly, as if Adama were reading nothing more interesting than a series of telephone numbers. "As well you should, Sir. As well you should." He sighed again and leaned forward, resting both elbows on the table, his hands clasped loosely. "Admiral, I don't really have the patience or strength right now to fence with you. So how about we dispense with the veiled threats and such? I mean, this is a rather..._historic_...moment for all of us. Isn't it?"

Adama had nothing to say to this, his 'Triad face' as fixed as ever. Zarek however was looking at the Secretary and his people with a more thoughtful expression now. Helo looked around as subtly as he could.

"The answer, Admiral, is yes...and no." Richards paused just long enough to take this in, and then pressed forward. "Are we the Thirteenth Colony you've been seeking? I mean, that is the question you really want to ask, isn't it?" He glanced down and flipped open the binder before him. "If you'll look the materials before you all, please? I think this will provide a few answers."

We four did as bade. The first page was a high-resolution photograph of what at first glance was a Colonial battlestar, albeit a cruder-looking one than even _Olympus. _What was unusual was that it appeared to be half-buried in some muddy hillside. I estimated the photo had been taken from a mile or so above the ground.

Richards was speaking again. "This first photo was taken a little over 20 years ago, in a remote region of our planet's northern hemisphere. A forest-reclamation project unearthed this vessel, which was determined to have landed there approximately four thousand years ago." He turned the page, as did the rest of us. The same vessel was shown, now surrounded by elaborate scaffolding and surrounded on all sides by stone walls.

"This next one was taken ten years ago, when I came aboard the analysis project. By that time the vessel had been moved to a more secure facility for study."

Adama spoke, asking, "How much were you able to learn from your study of the ship?"

"Very little, actually. The construction methods involved were already in use by our people, and there was virtually nothing inside the ship to provide clues as to where it came from. The next four pages are photo-static copies of the few fragments of paper that were found aboard it."

Those pages were as he said. The text itself was faded to be nearly unintelligible.

"Those pages were literally all we could salvage," Rice stated.

"You were part of the original find and excavation?" Adama asked, not looking up from the pages before him.

"I was," the Terran Admiral nodded. I turned all this over in my mind quickly and chose that moment to speak up.

"So this...vessel...was dug up some 20 years ago, but you discovered nothing of its origins with it. How then were you able to learn our language?"

"A great deal of inspired guess-work by an equally competent linguist who was brought on board," Rice stated with a sidelong look towards Secretary Richards.

"Guilty," said the competent linguist. I gave the civilian another appraising look, who returned it with bland disinterest. "Needless to say, guesswork got us only so far. After re-constructing your alphabet I hit a proverbial brick wall."

"What about bodies or other artifacts?" the Admiral asked, flipping back and forth between the pages.

"There were a skeletons buried fairly close to the ship, but no tombstones or anything of anthropological interest. Nothing that seemed out of place."

Adama said nothing immediately. Zarek and Helo likewise remained silent. I jumped into that silence once again. "That still doesn't explain your answer, Mr. Secretary. Are you the thirteenth colony or not?"

"As I said, the Colonial ship..."

"How do you know it was a Colonial ship?" Zarek broke in, only to be ignored as Richards continued.

"...landed on our planet four thousand years ago, by which time our species had already evolved there. If the remains we found buried near the ship - those can be seen in Appendix A in the back, by the way - really were members of its crew, then your ancestors and ours are virtually identical in both form and genetics." He cracked a smile that held little real humor. "We are your cousins and in-laws, for lack of a better term."

Zarek looked slightly aghast and Helo more thoughtful. Adama simply did one more flip through of the pages, then looked up and fixed the Secretary with an unyielding stare.

"You'll understand if I find all this a little hard to swallow, Sir."

If anything, Richards's smile grew a bit. "No argument. Most of our people were half-convinced it was all some elaborate hoax from the previous century. But two years ago something...extraordinary happened." He paused a moment and cupped his hand over his ear, the one with the comm-piece, murmuring something. I noticed how the uniformed Terrans shared a look of mild panic between them at the Secretary's words.

Richards looked back up and signed to Major Taylor, who immediately unlocked the door. The door swung open and another figure stepped in. We expected simply another Terran officer or expert, so all of us kept our gaze on the Secretary, whose voice warmed ever so slightly as he dropped his next bombshell on us.

"I believe you already know Colonel Kara Thrace."

As one, the four of us spun about, Helo slightly slower than the rest of us. It was indeed Kara Thrace, albeit one with slightly longer hair and wearing the Terran uniform.

I was frozen in shock. Adama was not.

He was out of his chair and had her throat in his hands before any of us even blinked. Major Taylor had his sidearm out and pointed directly at the Admiral's head. The shouting came from all sides – Adama's, Taylor's, Rice's, even Zarek's voices all melding into one noise I could not immediately sort out.

One voice, quieter and steady, cut through it all.

"Admiral Adama," the Secretary of State asked with exquisite patience. "Would you _please_ take your hands _off_ Colonel Thrace's throat _before_ Major Taylor forces you to?

"Please?"

* * *


	5. Chapter 5

**Part Five**

**+01:41:25**

_**(Starbuck)**_

Everyone but me it seemed was screaming at everyone else. The Admiral's hands around my neck pretty much killed any chance I had of contributing to a shouting match.

"What the _frak_ are you?"

"Release the Colonel, Sir!"

"Gods damn it, Adama!"

"Admiral, please…"

"Let her go, Sir!"

"Just listen…"

"Answer me, dammit!"

"I will fire if you don't…"

All my awareness was taken up by the furious eyes boring into me, demanding answers I couldn't give. I closed my eyes as my vision started to swim; the din surrounding us became deafening with threats and demands, all escalating and sure to end with the report of a gunshot.

Then one impossibly calm voice cut through it all.

"Admiral Adama. Would you _please_ take your hands _off_ Colonel Thrace's throat _before_ Major Taylor forces you to? Please?"

The room went silent at that voice. The only sound after that was of a small sip of espresso and the _clink_ of a mug settling back on the tabletop. The pressure on my throat disappeared and the rush of air through my abused trachea was enough to make me dizzy. I nevertheless forced my eyes open and muttered, "Frak, that hurts."

It takes a couple more seconds for my vision to clear, by which point I could see the Old Man still standing close by. Probably the only reason he wasn't pummeling me with those haymaker fists he had clenched wasn't how Taylor was practically standing over me, his sidearm still lined up on the Admiral's head. I doubt Helo and Zarek could have stopped him either, despite the efforts they were making. Even Rice, Avery-Hunter and Callisto looked ready to join the pile-on.

No, the only thing saving me from another attack was the only one sitting across the room right then. I doubt the smug frakker was the least bit surprised by what just happened; Ben Richards always seemed one step ahead of the rest of us and was _never_ shy about it.

"Major, please put your sidearm away. I'm sure Admiral Adama is prepared to be reasonable now." Ben looked up after a moment, seeing no one had moved a hair (myself included). "Now, Major!" he shouted, the rest of us jumping at the abrupt tone. Taylor immediately took a single step back, making a show of slowly withdrawing and holstering his weapon. He made it an equally clear point of _not_ refastening the safety catch.

Helo and Zarek nevertheless released the Old Man, who gave me another scowl before turning back to the table. A quick glance from Ben and a microscopic shake of his head kept me where I was. Just as well, as I had no idea which side of the table I belonged right then, and Lords knew I wasn't looking to get another glare from the Old Man.

So I stayed back and helped Taylor keep the bulkhead from tumbling over. I even folded my arms and to my level best to smirk in my 'trademark' fashion. It probably came across as fake as my enthusiasm for cards these days.

Richards was speaking again, directing everyone to some of the back pages of the briefing book. "Pages fourteen, fifteen and sixteen are photos that were taken when Colonel Thrace…landed…at the base where we were storing the colonial ship."

_Aw frak,_ was my only thought, wondering when Ben got so Hades-bent to scuttle these talks before they even started. I'd seen the photographic and video record of my 'landing' at Nellis dozens of times and _I_ had a hard time believing it was real. Lords only knew what the Admiral would make of it all.

I took the time to observe Helo and the Admiral's reactions to whatever they were seeing. Knowing Rice and Ben as I did, they'd likely chosen shots of my Viper burning on the tarmac after it landed, the fire control crews dousing the area in foam, and them pulling me out of that still-flaming wreck of a Mark VII. Of course, they wouldn't know it was _me_ unless Ben had thought to include snaps from the medical exam that followed; likely, he had, given how the Admiral lingered over the pages.

Helo stole a couple glanced towards me at the same time. I met his eyes for just a second. There was no mistaking the doubt there, though he looked away before I could get a better bead on it.

Not that I blamed him. The fact the last thing I recall was flying a Mark II, yet landing in a Mark VII is minor detail we've never managed to reconcile, especially considering I should have been burned to a crisp when they hauled my unconscious ass out. Hades, two of the fire crew suffered second-degree burns accomplishing that little miracle and they were in full burn-gear; I was only wearing my flight suit and didn't get so much as a light blister anywhere. Scuttlebutt is there was more footage and documentation of _me_ and my bird than of the find up in Alaska. No surprise, given what else they found with me, or the...condition...I was in at the time.

For the first time I really, really wish Lee had come with the Old Man. That way I could kill two birds with one stone, because I know deep in my gut I'm going to have to tell the Old Man before I leave. He will want me back aboard _Galactica _so Doc can prod me enough to convince him I'm still me. That isn't going to happen of course, and when I explain why...it will be a no small miracle if _all_ he does is strangle me then. Frak, he'll likely explode once Helo shares what's likely in the little folder he's been discretely carrying with him all this time.

The craziest thing of it is that's all I'm really worried about right now. Until now, I've had the luxury of considering the arrival of the Fleet purely in the abstract. Even when I was aboard the _Nemesis_ and talking trash with Tigh, it wasn't real to me.

Now that the _Galactica_ and rest are all here and I'm marginally less sleep-deprived? Well, a sizable part of me just wants to run to Able Room and hide there with Shan. Ben and Rice would certainly understand...

I look up when the Admiral slams his binder shut. Ben was doing his motionless Buddha routine and Admiral Rice got all tense. Even Taylor stiffened and his hand started to drift towards his sidearm again. I worked out I could move just fast enough to get between him and anyone he might aim at.

Ben might get all pissed at me for it, but damned to Zeus's black beard if I was going to let blood be spilled here.

* * *

**De author seez: **_okay, the next few parts are going to be shorter, in part because of time constraints from the holidays and in part because the revelations (some hinted at as far back as part 1 or Book I) are going to start coming fast and heavy. I want to keep the story moving and that means some things are going to be sped up._

_And before anyone asks, yes, Lee will be making an appearance. But not for a bit yet. First I've got to get Adama comfortable with Colonel Thrace, which is going to take some more work._

_See you Friday._


	6. Chapter 6

_(Again this is a short one, but sets up for some major developments next week. Enjoy.)_**  
**

**Part Six**

**+01:51:40**

_**(Adama)**_

I shut the binder and fought the urge to throw it across the room. The urge passed almost before I'd consciously acknowledged it.

Nevertheless, it still took a good five breaths before I was calm enough to even look up; talking took a little while longer. I wanted nothing more than to tear out every page and shove every one of them down Richards' throat, then Rice's, then their subordinates. Even that knuckdragger of Marine who had been pointing a gun at my head a few minutes ago.

Of course if I did that, that would mean I'd have to move on to...her...and I frankly didn't think I could do that.

The worst of it was that my reaction wasn't because I didn't believe anything Secretary Richards had been saying. It's that I _didn't_ _want__to_, as absolutely frakked up as that sounds, because quite frankly none of it makes any sense.

Except somehow it all did.

The thirteenth colony landing on this planet? Okay, that's certainly credible. We know from our myths that our ancestors on Kobol were no less advanced than ourselves; Gaeta had once postulated the lost colony had sent a repeated tachyon transmission outlining their journey. How else could our scriptures have told us where to look for the markers, however vague the direction may have been?

What were the odds those same colonists would end up on a planet already inhabited by a people not unlike ourselves? About the same odds to our own culture getting overwhelmed and all but wiped out by our mechanical creations.

But then there was the...person...standing behind me that, thus far, my mind consciously fought against even acknowledging. Just the possibility alone that...she...made it to Earth ahead of us was almost too much. Especially so in light of what Helo had told me about Lee seeing ghosts in that damned Nebula two years ago. I'd emptied her locker myself and hidden all of it away. Part of that was because I couldn't frankly stand any of her possessions getting auctioned off. The other part was more complicated, bound in a lifetime of atheism that had crumbled inch by inch since our home worlds died and the hand of the Gods was felt.

Shame bit at me at how carelessly I'd simply dismissed my son's claims all these years. I'd put it down to hysterics from the stress of that joke of a trial that had torn us apart. DRADIS in the CIC hadn't caught any bogey anywhere near him and his plane's gun camera hadn't even been switched on. His on-boards had been in a state of disrepair and couldn't be held as reliable.

Cheap excuses, all of it. Even I could see that now.

That didn't make...her...presence any easier to swallow. Hellsgate, I still couldn't turn my head to face...her. If Richards hadn't talked me down, I think there was the very real possibility I could have...would have...hurt...

_Gods forgive me, _I felt like weeping. _Forgive this stupid, blind old man who never listened or dared believe, even when laid a dozen miracles before him. Forgive me for nearly making a mockery of your last one, _if_this is your last one._

I then put all thoughts of Gods and prophecy and miracles out of my mind and refocused my attention upon the people sitting opposite me. "Where are my people?" I asked Richards. It was high time I got a proper briefing from Athena and Helo. Plus I wanted Zarek and Caprica's take on all this.

More to the point, I needed time to absorb...her...presence before I chanced another encounter. Until then, the more distance between us the safe for both of us.

"Captain Agathon and Mr. Carroq are waiting just down the hall." The Secretary grimaced slightly before continuing. "I felt it necessary to set the stage, so to speak, so you all understand...the lay of the land ahead..."

I had no clue what the Secretary of State was trying to communicate right then and I didn't care. I gave him my best Triad-face, which he returned. This deadlock went on for a few beats before the Secretary glanced away and over my shoulder.

"Major, please escort Captain Agathon and Mr. Carroq here." He looked at his people next and said "Admiral, Commodore, Commander? Perhaps we should give our Colonial counterparts here some privacy to talk for a bit?" To underline his point, he stood and re-buttoned his suit jacket, then walked around the table without another glance our way. His officers came-to and filed after their civilian superior. Major Taylor had already quit the room, taking…her…with him.

The Secretary paused a moment before leaving, indicating a red button connected to a speaker-grill near the door. "Just press this once you're prepared for us to resume. You have my word there are no recording devices in here." This would have been more reassuring had Richards so much as glanced over his boney shoulder towards us; instead he simply left and took his people with him, the hatch shutting behind him.

Except that I believed everything he said, including the bit about there being no recordings going on. Or I just _wanted_ to believe him, and all of this, so damned badly it amounted to the same thing. The only reason I didn't lay into Agathon right then was because I wanted his wife here with him before I carved them both completely new tailpipes.

Fortunately for all involved, we didn't have to wait more than a few seconds. The hatch cracked open and my officer and her temporary partner slipped in. Carroq straightened himself and gave me a serious nod, but I ignored him for the Captain. She had the good sense not to meet my eyes right then, instead snapping a parade-perfect salute while staring at the wall across the room.

It took all my energy right then, more than I'd ever summoned for any one task, to keep my voice calm as I asked them "Why wasn't I informed Kara was still alive?"

There. I'd said it. I'd accepted it. I believed it was _her_.

Now I just had to find a way to keep from killing my officers until they explained themselves. As an added measure, I joined my hands behind my back, not trusting my fragile self-control as Helo opened his mouth to speak.


	7. Chapter 7

_(A little more this time. Lemme know whatcha think!)_

**Part Seven**

**+02:05:09**

_**(Helo)**_

"Why wasn't I informed Kara was still alive?"

My mouth went dry as I tried to come up with a decent answer. _It seemed like a good idea at the time_ did not strike as a very good explanation right then. I'd served under the Old Man long enough to recognize the warning signs he was broadcasting, which didn't help my damned concentration.

It wasn't the fact he was holding his hands behind his back as much as the not-scowl he was wearing. You could read most anything into that look and you'd likely be wrong. He'd had the same look in the last Dance, right before he and Apollo had pounded each other through the canvas and landing each other into Life Station. It hadn't been pretty to watch and even worse to clear up after.

Ultimately, I opted for the simple truth. "She asked us to keep it quiet, Sir."

Okay, _partial_-truth telling, though I doubted either Admiral Rice or Secretary Richards were going to contradict me on this. Kara might and likely would if it came up, but I figured the Old Man would just take it as Kara being _Kara_ and just maybe not put too much stock in any arguments she might make.

Wishful thinking probably, especially with the way things had been going since Kara damn near rammed Javelin yesterday. Gods, but I wanted to strangle Tigh for going missing the way he had, leaving me to explain all of this to the Old Man.

At least Sharon still had my back on this, Gods bless her. "We didn't simply accept her word on her identity, Admiral. Lieutenant Ishnay performed a comprehensive X-ray and MRI."

"I have the results with me," I stated next, opening the folder with me and offering Adama the sheets. He made no move to take them. Instead, he continued to stare at me in that same silent manner that had left many an officer and specialist shaking in their boots.

I managed – just – to keep meeting that stare straight on without shaking; guess all those stare-downs with Hera over bedtime and eating her fruits had some benefit after all.

The Admiral snatched the papers from my hand and spun on his heel, Zarek and Caprica gathering at his shoulders. The set of his shoulders was the only deterrent I needed against offering any further comment after that. Not that I blamed the Admiral in the slightest for being this pissed. I was actually surprised he hadn't started throwing punches.

After sharing a politely chagrined look with my wife, I decided I'd better find something else to occupy my attention for a bit. I didn't care to wreck my digestion any further with what the Terrans passed as coffee, so that left the pictures. I waved Sharon over and picked up the closest binder, and flipped to page 14.

She joined me looking at it, stiffening at the sight of the burning Viper on the tarmac under a stormy desert sky. She hadn't needed any explanation of whose plane it was.

The next page showed men in heavy burn gear, two of them struggling in the middle of that inferno with a barely visible form. Again, neither of us needed any commentary to understand what we were seeing.

Page 16 showed a slender Colonial pilot in full flight suit and helmet reclining in a gurney, the Viper little more than a burnt-out shell in the background. The men in burn gear were still running around as well, though they seemed more concerned with a couple of their own right then.

If I hadn't known better, I'd have sworn the pilot in the picture hadn't been near so much as a stubbed-out cigarette. No burns or the slightest bit of smoke-damage to been seen on her, but an abundance of condensation on the inside of the helmet's visor prevented us from seeing who it was. As if there were absolutely any question in either of our minds on that score.

I tried to imagine the chaos that damned woman had caused with her arrival, but figured my imagination would only come up short.

The next few pages were of Kara being divested of her flight suit. The Terran's evidentially had done so with the greatest care, managing to work out the catches on the helmet, vest and joints without having to resort to cutting it all off her. She looked...serene...in those photos, at ease in a way I had never seen before.

The last photo of her there was one of her laid out in a sterile-looking room that made Cylon containment look almost luxurious. It looked as if it had been pulled from some kind of security camera feed, since the edges of the image were grainy and indistinct.

The photo after that one, the last in the book before a divider page, was a clear shot of her gear. It had been virtually dismantled and neatly laid out on a long table, little tent cards with what looked like numbers rested on or near each item. Item number 40, a small leather bundle, caught my eye, as it didn't look like a regular-issue piece of equipment.

"Major." The Admiral's abrupt call had me looking up quickly. Sharon studied the picture a second longer before doing the same. I saw how he had a death grip on the papers he'd taken from me, an ever-so-slight tremble betraying how this all must have been affecting him.

"There are references here to a recently-broken shoulder and cracked ribs," he stated bluntly.

I answered, "According to Admiral Rice, Starbuck was...attacked...by some pilots she was training a year and a half ago. Those pilots are presently serving extended sentences..."

"There's also a notation in here about abdominal scarring." This was directed at Sharon, who pressed her lips into a firm line.

"I believe it's what it looks like, Sir. I'm not aware of anyone questioning Starbuck directly on it."

The Old Man looked between the pair of us, face still unreadable. I half-wished he'd just have a screaming fit, tear us to bloody pieces, and be done with it. "What do you think?" was his only question.

"It's here. Lords of Kobol bless or damn us all, Sir, but it is _her_."

"Why?" I faltered at that, unsure how to answer when I realized I couldn't provide any actual evidence to back up my faith.

Sharon once more came to my rescue, sort of. "She asked about you and your son while she was cleaning herself aboard _Nemesis_," she reported calmly. "I'm afraid I panicked her a bit when I told her about Lee's leaving the military. She was, well, almost hysterical until I reassured her he was alive and well."

_That _had not sounded like the Kara I knew. Of course I was still trying to get my head around this business about 'abdominal scarring'; Rice and the others had made it sound like she'd come through her landing unscathed and that they'd been keeping from so much as scraping her knee ever since.

Trying not to contradict Sharon, I added, "It's more than just her physical form, Sir." I took a fortifying breath and rubbed my cropped head. "It…it's just…_her_. She's got every broken bone she ever had, her tattoos are all there, and she's as stubborn and argumentative and…and…"

Looking back on it, I have to wonder who I was actually trying to convince right then. No, I had no doubts it really was Kara, but neither could I summon a rational argument to back it up. Injuries and tattoos could be copied after all, and a Starbuck who got hysterical definitely didn't sound legit to anyone who knew her well.

The Old Man remained as still as stone, staring at us with those implacable eyes. Zarek by this point had joined Carroq in raiding the refreshments table, thereby taking himself out of the crossfire. Caprica had remained but was standing a bit off to the side, looking her usual thoughtful self.

Neither Sharon nor I had moved a hair, presenting as much of a united front as only the two of us could. This standoff might have well have lasted clean into the next century if Caprica hadn't broken in.

"Admiral?" A grunt was her only answer, and not a particularly encouraging one at that. She pressed on anyway. "Sir, I don't think this is any kind of trick." Another grunt, a bit heavier on the hostility this time, to the point where Caprica was starting to look a tad uncomfortable.

Not that she let this stop her. "Despite whatever...impression...the Leobens may have given, Captain Thrace was never considered a real target by the rest of us. The rest of the Models, that is. Our records on her, so far as I know at least, were nowhere near as detailed as you might think..."

"Even after New Caprica?" I asked.

"Leoben's fixation on her was never anything we'd consider sane or scientific. He never allowed anyone else, _especially _the Simons, to so much as touch her." She frowned for a moment. "His supply demands were beyond belief half the time there. Silk sheets, fresh produce, a dedicated water heater for a standalone plumbing system..."

"But no physical exams?" the Admiral asked. I was almost afraid of her answer.

"None, Sir. My oath." Our shared sigh of relief was as profound as it was silent.

What little peace we found in that was lost as Zarek piped up from behind me. "Fascinating as this is, it doesn't give us much of direction to push these negotiations in."

"I think it strengthens our hand, actually," Caprica parried. "If this is indeed Kara Thrace as she claims, then we already have an advocate among these people."

"That's if she hasn't already been co-opted by these people after two years of captivity..." Zarek argued in reply.

"They've already stated she hasn't been under duress," I reminded everyone. The Admiral didn't seem the slightest bit phased at this news. "It was one of the first things they stated when we established contact us."

"Meaning they were _not_ keeping her as a prisoner," Caprica stated, trying not to sound smug. "In fact, from the reactions of these officers, I'd say they've been nothing but supremely cautious about her safety."

"Be that as it may..." Zarek tried to argue, only to be over-ridden by the Old Man.

"Be that as it may," he echoed, turning his glare on the Vice-President. "_Be all that as it may_, we don't actually know anything." His eyes swept over each of us. "We don't _know anything_ beyond what little they've told us.

"And I want to hear a whole damned lot _more_ before we even start talking about believing anyone or anything. That includes all transcripts and records from the first contacts with _Nemesis. _Am I understood?"

Nods all around gave him his answer. Giving one of his own, he waved us all back to our chairs. I noted how we now outnumbered the Terrans, leaving the table a couple chairs short if we kept to the previous arrangement. The Old Man's only concession to this was to sign for Caprica to remain standing. She offered no objection to this and took up a conveniently out-of-the-way position nearby.

The rest of us sat as directed. I was the last to do so, having moved to the hatchway and waited for the Admiral to give the all clear. When he was seated and had both Kara's scans and the Terran's briefing binder open before him, I took this as my signal and depressed the door chime once.

I didn't wait for the hatch to open or to observe the Terrans re-entering the room; that was Caprica's job and I was happy to leave her to it. I only wished I had taken a moment to refill my cup. I was down to my last couple of sips of coffee and Gods alone knew when I would have another taste of this stuff.

Only when the handful of chairs facing us were again occupied did the Old Man look up from the papers and photos before him. I couldn't help but tense in anticipation, his face having taken the deliberately blank look that usually preceded some kind of explosion.

Sadly, I wasn't disappointed.

* * *

**De author seez: **_Interested? Concerned? Puzzled? Worried? Anxious? Please use the little button below to let me know!_

_Next up: Adama vs. Thrace (again)._

_See you next year. (yeah, bad joke I know)_


	8. Chapter 8

_(And here we are, a day early. Read and review!)_**  
**

**Part Eight**

**+02:11:02**

_**(Adama)**_

I bided my time, testing to see how far I can stretch the patience of these people. There were so many holes to be filed I doubt we could have done so in one sitting even I were prepared to hear it all.

I still couldn't turn my head. Fear that...she...wouldn't be there any longer balanced out against the same that...she...would be. Ever since our jump into this system and Richards' greeting, I've been nothing _but_ afraid. Not for myself, but for what the end of our exodus would mean for my people.

"_Fear gets you killed, anger keeps you alive." _ That was one of the lessons...she...learned from her mother and one I never even thought to try to counter. For all my talk of loving her as a daughter, I recognized what an abysmal job I've managed to do as her father on that score. The mess between myself and Lee, made a little easier admittedly now that I'm a grandfather, looked like a simple disagreement over who would make it to the Pyramid Championships next year in comparison to what was likely waiting for me with...her...

_Kara_, dam**n **it! I clenched my teeth and forced my cowardly self to actually say the frakking name. _Kara_.

"Admiral? Are you unwell?" The Secretary of State asked me sounding genuinely concerned. I managed to school my expression once more and looked up at him.

"This is simply...a great deal to absorb, Mr. Secretary." I was glancing over my shoulder before consciously realizing it, catching sight of..._Kara..._in my peripheral vision. That glance alone nearly proved too much for me, and I quickly turned back to face my Terran counterpart. "Some of it isharder than the rest."

"I can imagine," the Secretary nodded. "And obviously you have a great many more questions."

"Obviously," I echoed. Yes, there were still questions to be asked and answered, but only one subject commanded my attention at that point. Until that matter was settled, everything else was secondary in my mind. For the sake of everyone in our fleet, I needed to get it settled and out of the way.

"I don't believe in miracles, Mr. Secretary," was my blunt statement. "So I'm going to want Colonel Thrace to come aboard_Galactica_ so she can be fully examined by our medical staff."

Richards smirked slightly at this and shook his head. "Not going to happen."

His refusal, so casual and ironclad, caught me short for a moment. Then I got angry. "That wasn't a request..."

"And I wasn't entertaining it as such. I'm saying it's not going to happen, Admiral. It's as simple as that."

What little patience I'd been able to muster slipped away fast. Faster still was my threat of, "Then perhaps we don't have anything further to discuss."

"Perhaps we don't," Richards agreed flatly. I felt my hands involuntarily clench with the urge to smash that smug expression of the Secretary's down his throat.

Amazingly, Zarek stepped in to defuse the tension. "Please, Admiral. Mr. Secretary, you have to agree it is a reasonable request."

"Under normal circumstances I'd agree, Mr. Vice-President." Richards fixed me with the same look I'd given him earlier. "But given the Admiral's own reaction? I'm disinclined in the extreme to risk the well-being of our single most valued serving officer." He quickly looked down and took a slow, measured sip from his mug.

Shame swallowed my momentary rage whole. Richards' point was about as subtle as a nuclear strike, his choice of pronoun sealing the deal. I hadn't felt this low and unworthy since Saul, stone cold sober, had 'congratulated' me on driving my son to seeing ghosts and becoming my 'pet Cylon executioner'. I had already been smarting over pressing Lee into acting as interrogator of the last Leoben copy who had surrendered himself to us, then managed to turn the whole situation around so Lee ended up killing him. Things were never right between any of us after that.

Gods, how was Lee going to take..._Kara's_...sudden resurrection?

Managing to put that worry aside, I admitted, "My reaction was completely out of line. I apologize for it and give you my word as an officer it will not be repeated."

Richards exchanged a look with Admiral Rice, who was watching me with hooded, hostile eyes. "That would be a great deal more convincing, Admiral Adama, if it were directed to the _officer_ you'd attacked."

A fair point. Except I feared that if I turned around - even for a moment - odds were I would never be able to turn back. Where would that leave us all?

The voice from the slighted party broke that impasse rather suddenly. "I don't see an apology being necessary, Admiral." Simple as that, though she gave no hint which of us she was addressing. Rice didn't look any more pleased than before, but was apparently willing to let the matter rest for the moment.

What little relief this afforded was lost when Kara added, "However I couldn't...can't...go to _Galactica_ regardless of the outcome of these talks."

It felt like the floor gave way under me right then. Those words, that tone, couldn't have come from the woman I had known all these years. My eyes drifted shut for a moment as every dark suspicion and paranoid fear washed through me again, fortunately leaving me utterly paralyzed and unable to force those self-righteous words back down her throat, as I should have.

There was some disruption among the others present, but I was partially deaf by that point and didn't try to make sense of it. Kara's words were ringing in my ears and left me lost to anything else.

Was I wrong believing it being _her_, or was she no longer the _Kara_ I'd known all these years? These people had sworn they didn't have her under duress, which meant she was either something completely different from the woman I knew...or...

My eyes drifted back to the materials laid out before me. The photos aside, there were the scans and x-rays of her from _Nemesis._The sheer volume of her injuries from childhood gave me something mundane and outrageous enough to focus on. There was something odd to them, beyond just the new fractured shoulder. I promised myself to get the names of the cowards responsible for _that_ one. Something Athena had said about new scarring or such...

"Why?" The question was out there before I realized I'd spoken it. All other conversation ceased.

"Why...what, Admiral?" Richards asked in reply.

Very slowly and deliberately, _very_ carefully, I turned my chair around to face the woman standing at the back. Somehow, I found nerve and calm enough to look upwards and meet her eyes. I was still coward enough I let my gaze flick this way and that, so as not to loose my nerve under her steady gaze.

It was all the elaboration needed.

The room held its breath. At least I did in silent prayer she would answer.

Evidentially she did. "I have my reasons for needing to remain aboard _Olympus_, Sir." She straightened and focused on me. "They are _my_ reasons, not relating to either Earth or the Oath I gave becoming an officer in the Colonial Fleet." There was no missing the emphasis she put on the last bit.

I'd taken a leap of faith on all this from the start. By rights, I should have ordered the fleet to jump to the standby coordinates the second the _Olympus_ appeared. I should have refused to meet with these people until I had heard from Saul and gone over their transcripts with a fine tooth comb. I should have insisted they come to _Galactica_ and have Cottle dissect each of them, especially _her_, just to confirm they were human.

But I hadn't done any of that. Why not?

Because after having the gods nudge us this way and that for nearly five years, watching Laura and Lee both slip from me by inches, I was too exhausted to keep running. It was no wonder Lee was seeing Kara, and Laura was having tea with Elosha with the pressures we'd all been under.

Perhaps I had broken like Lee and Laura and gods knew how many others had. It sometimes sounded as if the Fleet was being invaded by ghosts. Now I was ready to grasp any small hope the gods, or whatever watched over us, saw fit to dangle before me just so that we could all just stop running. I'd take any hope of a reprieve just so I could_breathe_ and remember what it was to be human again.

I looked up again, meeting Kara's eyes full on and found myself wanting to _believe,_ despite myself, that this was where our journey ended.

Her refusal to return to us was enough to stop that hope dead. There was something to her, something I couldn't quite place yet, that held her fast. Until I understood that, I didn't dare trust her. At least that was the excuse I would use if pressed.

As if reading my thoughts, Richards suggested, "Perhaps you'd best explain yourself to the Admiral, Colonel." He paused and took another sip from his cup. "In private, that is. This all comes down to a matter of trust after all."

Either this man was very, very good at reading me, or he was a genuine Oracle. I wasn't sure which possibility left me more unsettled.

Then I caught Kara's eyes for the third time and saw all my worries reflected there. A healthy dose of fear as well. Not the sort of emotional cocktail I was used to from her; her confession about Zak was about the only time I had seen anything close. Evidentially the Secretary's suggestion hadn't even occurred to her.

She chewed her lip, evidentially mulling it over. She looked ready to refuse, at which point I would have made it an order of my own, only to have Richards take over again. "Major Taylor, please escort Admiral Adama and Colonel Thrace to her quarters. They should be able to talk at length there." I spun my chair about, nearly too shocked to form words of either acceptance or protest. A short glance over my shoulder confirmed Starbuck was in the same state.

Before either of us could say anything, our Vice-President saw fit to speak. "I don't see any objection to this. Do you, Admiral Adama?"

Tom Zarek had proven himself a genuine asset to the Fleet over the years, more so than a player on the political fringe should have. Asset or not, Vice-President or not, I truly and honestly wished to strangle the frakking life out of him right then.

I nevertheless found myself nodding in agreement, as much to my own shock as likely everyone else present.

Secretary Richards mirrored me and nodded over my shoulder. "You have your orders, Colonel, Major. See to them." Taylor snapped to attention like the trained professional he clearly was. It took a few extra seconds for both Kara and me to realize we had just been summarily dismissed. Kara snapped off a crisp salute, the sort she only gave when she fighting hard to control her _real_ reaction, then turned on her heel and marched out the hatch.

I myself simply stood and gave a curt nod to Helo, who returned it. I may still have been furious with him over keeping Kara a secret this long, but I also knew he was reliable enough to keep Zarek from selling the rest of us out.

I followed Kara...Colonel Thrace...out the hatchway and back into that claustrophobic tunnel these people called a corridor. I followed Kara's lead, noting carefully how the corridor was completely deserted save for our Marine escorts and ourselves. Soon however the tunnel-corridor widened, becoming more familiar in design to those on_Galactica._I wondered whether this was simply coincidental or a deliberate choice on the Terran's part.

"Hold up," the Colonel called out, gesturing for me to enter an open room. Being the polite guest, I did as bade and was again surprised to find myself in a near-perfect replica of the pilot's briefing room. There were just enough differences to reassure me this wasn't some knock-off copy intended to put me at ease.

Any interest I may have had in the décor was completely lost when the Colonel shut the hatch behind her, shutting our escorts outside. Then she drew her sidearm, disengaged the safety, tugged the slide back...and held the weapon out, her hand wrapped around the barrel and the handle towards me. "There's a bullet already chambered in there. All you need do is point and pull the trigger..."

I cut her off with a snarl of "What the frak are you playing at, Kara?"

Her hand didn't waver even slightly as she continued, "Thirty months ago, when I was suffering from New Caprica, you demanded my side arm and told me and Tigh to just plain shoot you. Now it's your turn, Sir. So go ahead.

"Shoot me. I'm not afraid to die." The words were a lie; I could see that much, even if my own reactions were all over the map.

I wanted to recoil, put as much distance between her and myself as possible right then...

I wanted to slap that weapon out of her hand and pull her to me and never, ever her go again...

I wanted to grab that weapon and put it my own head, so to stem the wave of bitter memories that nearly overcame me...

I wanted to weep and beg her to forgive this stupid old man before her for being so godsbedamned blind to her pain...

Pride and trust - in her, not myself - were all that kept me in place as she threw my own thoughtless words back at me. I held firm enough that my voice cracked slightly when I asked, "Why?" That seemed a persistent question between us, extending throughout out our relationship and even beyond her seeming death two years ago. It had taken me all that time to repair the model she had helped me complete by giving me _Aurora_ and that I had destroyed in a moment of insane grief. I'd finished it just hours before the _Nemesis_ had signaled the 'all clear' for our jump in.

Evidentially it had helped repair my sanity as well. Gods alone knew how I might have reacted to her just one day earlier.

Such musings were silenced when she spoke. "What...what I'm about to show you...will change things. I need to know I can trust you with it." She swallowed. "You've called me a malcontent and a cancer..."

"I was _wrong..._" The Colonel just shook off my objection, neither her gaze nor her grip wavering.

"You've called me that and worse over the years, always with reason. But that's changed; _I've_ changed. So either you can accept that and accept what I'm going to show you and what I've decided...or we can stop right here and I'll just absent myself from these talks from now on."

The only move I made, that I was _capable_ of making right then, was to tug the weapon from her hand and hold it loosely by the barrel. I re-engaged the safety and offered it back to her, handle first. "If I _ever_ treat you like that again, consider yourself to have standing orders to shoot me somewhere non-vital to remind me of my manners."

She re-holstered her sidearm and nodded. "Duly noted. You should know that Ben, Admiral Rice and I aren't going to budge about me remaining aboard _Olympus_, Sir. By rights, my presence here is a major violation of current protocols."

I nodded, not fully understanding what she was getting at and but wanting to keep this moving. Questions and confusion tore at me, but I was resolved I would follow where she led. At least for the moment.

We exited the room a moment later and I was led through still more corridors, ones with actual people in them now. Taylor sent them hugging the walls with words I couldn't understand, all of them pausing to offer salutes as we passed. Colonel Thrace returned them and I followed suit.

We finally reach our apparent destination: what appeared to be a completely normal hatchway with what looked like a handwritten placard on it and couple of Marines in what I presumed was full tactical gear watching us approach. Taylor exchanged words with one of them, as did Colonel Thrace, concern radiating from them both. A few more words from the door's guards seemed to relax the latter significantly. In contrast, Major Taylor looked like he was ready to start spitting nails.

He nevertheless allowed the Colonel to tap in the entrance code, the guard to our left swung it open the rest of the way. I followed her inside and took in the untidy officer's quarters within. I wondered for a moment who the primary occupant was; the abundance of manuals and books on the shelves at odds with the_I-never-read-a-manual-I-couldn't-ignore_ attitude I'd always associated with Starbuck. Then I noticed a small set of paints that rested atop a white sheet in the corner near the room's only over-burdened desk and recalled the handful of pictures Kara had secreted away in her rack. I wondered how many more works of art she had made in the last two years.

After another moment, I noticed we weren't alone. A junior-looking officer stood there at attention and eyed me carefully, even as she addressed the Colonel. She had features reminiscent of the southern coastal lands of Aquaria, which perhaps explained her passing resemblance to Sharon.

Colonel Thrace cleared her throat and nodded towards the younger woman. "Admiral? This is my aide and resident nursemaid, Lieutenant Xian Coy Mahn."

I nodded and offered a cordial salute. "Lieutenant."

"An honor, Sir," she replied in accented but understandable Colonial.

"The honor is mine." More strange words passed between the pair. If it were an actual language, I was damned if I could make heads or tails of it.

The Colonel then turned to me and stated distractedly "Admiral, please wait here a moment." Without waiting for a reply, she turned and headed towards the room's only other door, leading to what I presumed was a partitioned bedroom. I thought I spied a sink through the partially open hatchway, leaving me to wonder once more what kind of mind designed this place. It hardly seemed hygienic to have a head near where one slept.

Lieutenant Mahn had not moved since Kara left us. I turned to her and asked, "How long have you worked under Colonel Thrace?"

There was the sound of running water from the next room.

"Nineteen solar months, Admiral. I was assigned to her shortly after an...incident...with some of her trainees."

Soft murmuring exchanged between what might have been two voices, too quiet to make out individual words.

"That would be the attack upon the Colonel? So you're her what, personal security?"

Fabric rustling. More water running.

"Yes, Sir."

More soft murmuring.

"Just how serious were her injuries from that?"

Mahn took a moment to formulate her response. "Nothing life-threatening, although there was concern about her..."

The door creaked open and Kara's voice called my whole attention. "Admiral Adama?"

I looked up, and felt my knees start to buckle at the sight that greeted me.

* * *

**+04:55:02**

"Admiral? Are you all right, Sir?" Racetrack's question jarred me from my distraction.

"Never better," I grumbled, glancing over my shoulder to confirm Secretary Richards hadn't moved since we'd left _Olympus_. He met my eyes understandingly, as only one who shares so great a secret could.

I involuntarily felt for the small packet under my jacket, the one Lieutenant Mahn had passed to me at her superior's order just before our departure. It's contents were worth more to me than the dozen containers of documents and recordings Richards brought with him.

I closed my eyes tight, promising myself a visit to Temple as soon as possible. Perhaps by that point I'd have some idea about how to break my news to the rest of my crew, never mind my family.

Hopefully no one would think to ask me where my Senior Pilots Wings had gone, either.

* * *

**De author seez: **_C'mon! Review! Lemme know ya love it or hate it!_

_See ya Friday...maybe. Kinda depends on whether I can top all this by then or just decide to take a break from it all._


	9. Chapter 9

_(Sorry if this seems short. No promises about what to expect next week. Enjoy anyway.)_

**Part Nine**

**+05:17:19**

_**(Roslin)**_

I don't sleep anymore. I pass out, then come to, and then pass out again. If I'm lucky consciousness actually lasts a few lucid hours. Otherwise I'm talking to ghosts.

"Madame President?"

Ghosts like the one bothering me right then. I'd managed to crack one eye open and gave him a critical once over. My only thought was to wonder why he insisted on wearing that terrible-looking tie all the time.

"Ma'am? Are you awake?"

I would have made a rude noise as an answer, if only it weren't such a trial just to draw breath right then.

"Go'way," I managed to hiss, making a show of turning away. Or trying to at least; Bill's couch wasn't that deep.

"Sorry. Can't. You've got an appointment in a few minutes."

That got me angry just enough that I managed to wrestle myself into a semi-seated position on the couch. "Billy Keikeya, you are _dead_. My daily schedule is outside your purview and has been for some time."

Billy, who didn't look the least bit dead or even mildly put out, simply poured me my usual morning cup of tea and declined to meet my eyes. This just angered me more and had me climbing out of bed (such as it was), intent upon giving him whatfor. Familiar phantom or not, I wasn't about to have my last days dictated to me by a well-intentioned delusion.

My attention was distracted from this most important duty by a sharp rapping at the door. Only one person hammered on the door that way, which meant I'd have to suffer through Bill's (likely heavily edited for time) debrief on whatever he and the others had met aboard that supposed battlestar.

I threw a dirty look towards where Billy had been standing, not even remotely surprised he was nowhere to be seen. Likely he'd scuttled back to the opposite shore of the River Styx. Even dead he was still making sure I did my damned job. Gods but he and I were going to have words when we met up.

Well, at least he left my tea within easy reach. Elosha would merely nudged the pot my way and expect me to humbly pour for both of us. I took a sip, grimacing how it always tasted like dirt. Little wonder neither Elosha or Bill ever stuck around to enjoy it, the lucky frakkers.

It nevertheless fortified me enough to straighten my blouse and skirt so I was at least marginally presentable. After which I cleared my throat and called "Enter." It felt a tad...off, especially given this wasn't technically my cabin to begin with. I could only imagine the sorts of rumors Tom and his cohorts had circulated about the Admiral and I since the Sadeim's aborted assassination attempt and Bill had all but locked me away in here.

I remembered to step into my shoes just as the hatchway opened, a bleary-eyed William Adama entering slowly. He leaned back behind the door and muttered something I couldn't make out. Once he stepped fully inside and the door was shut behind him, only then did I ask the burning question "Well?"

There were a dozen dozen questions packed into that one word and I could see Bill heard each and every one of them, even if he seemed too distracted by something to offer an immediate answer. I forced myself to remain still and give him as careful a look as I had Billy. His normally pristine uniform jacket looked a bit askew and wrinkled. I felt something was missing there but couldn't quickly identify it.

It was the tears he was fighting so damned hard that had me more worried. Bill Adama didn't do tears and certainly didn't allow them out in public. What in Zeus' name had he found aboard that ship?

He took an unsteady step towards me, which was all the invitation I needed, meeting him halfway and throwing my arms around him. He was almost trembling, which sent me from worried to outright _terrified_. "What is it?" I hissed, tensing in anticipation against his answer. Something under his jacket prodded my ribs, but I paid it no mind.

"Its...Lords, forgive me..." He actually broke down for a few seconds, his tears wetting my shoulder. I held as tight as I could, which admittedly wasn't much. Bill was quick to get hold of himself, angrily wiping his eyes clear and taking several deep breaths. He pulled a small envelope from out of his jacket, holding it tight as if it were some talisman.

I tried to take his hand, only to have him pull away and throw a furious glare at me. My only response was _not_ to respond, merely watch him with calm eyes and careful to keep both hands in sight. This had the desired effect and got him to calm down.

"S...sorry," he breathed. He cleared his throat and carefully opened the envelope, gently tipping the contents into his free hand: nothing more than a handful of photographs. I forced myself to remain still even as curiosity literally burning my fingers to reach out to him.

He handed the lot over to me. I held his eyes one more beat before looking down...

Then went completely numb at the images in my hands.

Some part of me was impressed at Bill's restraint. I had to gulp hard for air after just a few seconds of looking into a face I knew well and whom I'd mourned with the dead years ago. The only thing that was keeping me standing right then was a pair of strong, weathered hands on my suddenly-weak shoulders. Otherwise I would have sunk to floor and probably _never_ gotten up again, regardless of how many cups of tea Billy forced down my throat.

"Laura? Laura!" The Admiral's hard voice cut through my silent hysterics. I looked up, unable to process his next words. "Ben Richards is outside."

I blinked stupidly. "Whu...who?"

"The Terran Secretary of State. The one who greeted us when we jumped in."

Another few blinks and a shake of my head cleared the mental fog, if only for a few moments. "He's...he's here? Now?!" Bill gently eased the photos out of my hand, which helped me pull me the rest of the way out my shock. "Uhm, is this..." I gestured helplessly towards the photos, which were back in their envelope and quickly betting put into a desk drawer.

Shutting the drawer, Bill looked up, but it was Admiral Adama who spoke. "Those are real. I've seen it all...its all real." Another sigh, followed by a slump to the shoulders. "And...they've had their own disasters...their own trials..."

I could clearly tell he was _not_ talking about our Terran cousins and quickly pulled him back to the present. "But are they willing to negotiate?"

He gave me a look. "Why do you think their Secretary is here?"

"I must look a fright," I chuckled, knowing full well I did and would need a quite a bit of time to clean up. Perhaps I could think up something coherent to say to my opposite number that didn't boil down to outright begging.

Bill put paid to that hope by saying "Laura, he's right outside and he wants to see you _now._"

"Now?" I squeaked.

"Now."

"Uh...jacket. Frak, where's my frakking jacket?" I looked around, muttering curses at Billy for being his usual useless self. The Admiral simply picked up from the chair I'd mindlessly draped it over and, with great ceremony and much exaggerated patience, helped me into it.

Once I straightened up as best could be managed, I gave the nod to the Admiral and allowed him to unlock the hatch. I felt a rush of terror, as if I were about to commit some great blasphemy in full view of all Twelve Lords of Kobol. Thankfully it came out as just a nervous giggle which I managed to suppress just in time.

I looked up just in time to meet the eyes of the two men who stepped into sight. The first was a somewhat-intimidating officer in uniform; the second was directly behind him and momentarily obscured as the officer sized up the room and its occupants. He quickly stepped aside, giving me my first view of my opposite number.

"Mr. Secretary, welcome to the _Galactica_." I mentally winced as I spoke, realizing I'd likely breached some kind of protocol saying this. A quick glance at the Admiral gave me no clues to his thoughts. On the other hand Secretary Richards was staring at me so hard I felt positively transparent before him. Determined not to loose control of the situation, I marshaled my energy and took a single step forward, extending my hand as I did.

Naturally my footing chose that moment to give way, sending me all but tumbling to the floor.


	10. Chapter 10

_(Change of pace time. Please hold your fire for a bit.)_

**Part Nine**

**+01:55:09**

_**(Richards)**_

The bulkhead was the only thing holding me once the hatch to the conference room clicked shut. "Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid! Stupid!" was all I could mutter. I knocked my head against the bulkhead as we all contemplated what my impatience had wrought for us.

Ted glanced between Starbuck and me, looking alternately stricken and furious. Callisto had sympathetic eyes for Starbuck and studiously ignored the rest of us. Avery-Hunter and Taylor were looking ready to march back into the room and exercise a much older fashioned type of diplomacy.

Thankfully Ted recovered first, even if he did still sound like he wanted to do bodily harm to someone. "Well, _that _could have gone better." As understatements and rebukes go, it was fairly mild. I offered a reply in the same spirit.

"Please, no one say 'I told you so'," I begged, rubbing my temples. "In the meantime, any thoughts on where this is going?"

Commodore Avery-Hunter snorted. "Downhill, if Adama's over-reacting like that is anything to go by…"

"That wasn't an over-reaction from the Admiral." It took the rest of us a few seconds to pick our collective jaws up off the deck at Starbuck's statement, who shrugged in that distracted way that meant she was _not_ going to offer any elaboration.

I decided to take her at her word, which quite honestly was something I'd been consciously resisting doing for years. There were times I had nearly convinced myself she was a plant from some Combine spook shop dropped on us for disinformation. It was easier to believe we were the victims of some elaborate con job than putting stock in her claims of being an alien and such.

The proverbial battlestar-in-the-corner taking up residence next door had effectively pulverized that comforting illusion. I was starting to feel physically sick right then. I tended to get a bit reckless when nausea threatened. "What can we expect, Colonel?"

Starbuck actually appeared to think about it for a few moments. "He'll probably want me aboard _Galactica_ so the Doc can poke and prod every hole I've got until he's convinced I'm me."

"Like you're going anywhere off this ship..." Ted muttered, looking to me for confirmation.

"Agreed," I sighed after another beat. "Though I doubt Admiral Adama is going to just take our word on that one. Am I right there, Colonel?"

"Yes, Sir."

"Explanations may be in order then..."

Kara gave me a pointed look, causing me to nearly miss Ted's next contribution to my personal stress level. "I'd feel better if we evacuated Colonel Thrace and her..."

I nipped that one in the bud before the Commodore, his XO, or their resident muscleman could pipe up. "No, I want to keep her on-hand." I was supposed to be in charge here after all, even if I had known Callisto since she was diapers and was on poker-playing terms with the other three. "But we need to make them understand why," I added, eyes on Kara alone.

Her eyes sharpened to where I wondered if she wasn't going to try poking my eyes out. "I am _not_ going to tell _everyone_..."

Could the two of us were just once have a normal conversation? "I'm not suggesting that. Just the Admiral, and in _private_. As in...anywhere away from...well, anywhere you feel safe to do so. Okay?"

No one looked happy at the idea, but neither did anyone raise additional objections. I figured right then I'd better find some way off this ship that didn't involve a return to Earth; I had enough people screaming at me there as it was.

Damned if I knew what I would do if the Admiral refused to take the option, or how we would handle Zarek and the rest without him and Kara around.

More than anything, I just wanted to avoid dicey topics like 'religion' or 'cultural identity' right then.

* * *

**+02:23:01**

No sooner had Adama left the room than Zarek let loose. "I want to state for the record, Mr. Secretary, that our people will not consent to being forced to give up our culture or history. Especially our religious traditions..."

I resisted the urge to groan. Why the hell had I agreed to take this job? Easy answer and its name was Kara Antigone Thrace. I didn't bother to glance to either Ted or the Commodore, knowing they would be _no_ help here. This was a political matter, as they would doubtless delight in reminding me later.

Irene's instructions had been vague to the point of useless, likely as not because she was as close to the sort of massive breakdown that had sent Anthony-_frakking_-Baker off into _La-la_ land. As soon as my feet were back on Earth, I was typing my resignation, handing it to the Secretary General personally, and then let her deal with these people.

Or not, depending on things went.

Well, it wasn't as if we had a manual for this or anything. I made a snap decision to go for honesty. "Believe it or not, Mr. Vice-President, we don't expect you to."

"No?"

"No. In fact, the United Nations Charter, which all of us including Colonel Thrace are sworn to uphold, guarantees the preservation of both culture and religion for all peoples. We call them the First Guarantees."

Zarek gave me what I presumed was a measuring eye. "Very poetic. What else?"

Spending close to a decade working on the Alaska find and another two years debriefing the ever-charmless Kara Thrace had taught me a thing or two about handling questions like that. Namely, you toss them back and pray the questioner is dumb enough to pick them up. "That would be my question to you, wouldn't it?"

Sadly, Tom Zarek wasn't the dumb one here. He merely smiled at me.

Happily, it seemed Major Agathon more inclined to part with information. "What do you need to know, Mr. Secretary?" If I didn't know better I'd think he offered just for the chance that it would upset Zarek.

Regardless, I'd take what I could get. The laundry list of topics that came to mind would have taken a week to recite. A couple immediate ones however needed to be heard. "First, have you had any indication whetherthe Cylons may have tracked you here? And second, how many people are we talking about aboard your ships?"

Zarek sat back and let Agathon answer both. "To the first, we haven't had a sign of the Cylons for roughly a year of our time. To the second, um, we have, uh..."

His wife jumped in as he verbally and mentally fumbled. "Forty-one thousand, nine hundred and twenty-two souls. One thousand and forty-nine of whom were found as prisoners of the Cylons thirteen monens ago. We've kept the majority of them segregated from the population for their own safety."

I couldn't help but wince, as that was roughly the same number Thrace figured when she'd 'left' her people. Two years with virtually zero-population-growth, even with those people they had recovered. Sounded like their exodus had taken a severe toll on them, even without the toasters on their collective tail.

It took me a few more beats to digest the implications. While I was busy with that, Zarek decided to open his mouth _again._


	11. Chapter 11

**Part Eleven**

**+02:31:50**

_**(Zarek)**_

It may not have been the wisest move to let Adama run off with Thrace. On the one hand, it did leave me technically in charge, though on the other, it meant I had to address these people directly. Normally I wouldn't have a problem with this, except…well, they scared me.

There, I'd admitted it. I was well and truly scared of our cousins. Instead of being fantastically more advanced or abysmally primitive, either of which I could have dealt with, they instead were our near-mirror equal right then. I was used to playing the oppressed or negotiating from a position of strength.

But standing with equals? _That_ was something new for me. It didn't help that none of the Terrans appeared to regard us with anything other than cautious acceptance, never mind that they'd been so damned forthcoming in their answers. Every instinct I had was telling me they were telling the absolute truth, including how Thrace apparently landed on their planet.

Oh, I'd heard the stories about Adama's son going mad in the Ionian Nebula and all but ranting about seeing her there. And like the rest of the fleet, I'd chalked it up to the poor boy finally succumbing to simple grief. I hadn't liked how Roslin had started leaning on him so much, never mind how quickly he'd shaped up after that.

I shook my head to clear out such thoughts. The younger Adama was for once not my foremost concern. Rather, it was the people sitting across from me and mine. I had no problem with Agathon and his skinjob wife answering the Secretary's questions; I needed time to collect myself. The other skinjob Adama had brought with us was keeping her own council; thank the Gods.

"Why is it so important you know how many of our people are left?" I asked, grabbing onto the first thought I could manage coherently.

Richards looked at me. Well, around me at any rate. He suddenly seemed distracted. "We've got, uh, relief supplies coming in behind us. Food and medicine…though according to Admiral Rice you don't seem to need much of the former…"

Both the blonde skinjob and I perked up at this, but she proved a little quicker off the mark asking, "Excuse me?"

"You weren't aware?" Richards seemed surprised, glancing towards the Agathons. "Admiral Rice and his team discovered your people, at least the ones aboard _Nemesis_, are carrying a micro-organism in their bloodstream that appears…resistant to disease."

"Incredibly so, in fact," Ted saw fit to immediately add. "Our sims show it killing virtually every bug known."

"You really hadn't noticed?" Richards asked us all. I was honest enough to shake my head. None of the Terrans looked too shocked at my silent admission, which left me uncertain if this was a good sign or a bad one.

It did get me thinking however. Sitting there, momentarily removed from the fleet and all its immediate worries, it struck me how few health problems we'd actually suffered over the years. In fact, sickness had been virtually non-existent in the last two years, whereas the years before had been almost one outbreak after another.

I wasn't one to believe in the Gods necessarily. We Sagittarians are a pragmatic breed, having been shat upon for most of our history, so chalking anything good or bad up to the Twelve Lords always struck as a bit of a dodge.

The Admiral's skinjob again broke the momentary silence between us. "What about Cap...um, Colonel Thrace? Did she have these same...micro-organisms...in her blood?"

Richards exchanged a glance and a small nod with Rice, apparently allowing him to answer. "She had traces of them left in her system by the time we were able to safely examine her. Apparently, these things have a very, very limited lifespan. We've been working on the theory your people have been...well, replenishing the, er, population of them...probably by..."

"The algae?" This came from Agathon's skinjob wife, who looked almost appalled at the suggestion. I wondered for a moment if that was because her programming or something else; unlike most, I wasn't adverse to the idea of her being a functioning, sentient being like the rest of us. It just meant I'd always have to keep her in sight like everyone else.

I did admire how quickly she arrived at the same conclusion I had, even if it _did_ raise entirely new possibilities I doubted any of us, the Terrans included, were ready to consider.

Secretary Richards appeared to be made of sterner stuff than the rest of us, recovering quickly and asking, "Your foodstuffs are still algae-based, I take it?"

Agathon nodded. "Pretty much. We've managed to expand our produce a bit, but not by much."

"We'll assume we're looking at vitamin and protein deficiencies across the board," Richards stated quietly to his compatriots, not taking his eyes of the rest of us. "We should also prep the med-teams..."

"Um, Mr. Secretary?" I broke in. "You were saying about 'relief supplies'? Will we be expected to offer...restitution for this aid?" I put just a hint of offense into the question, which, to their credit, none of the Terrans reacted against.

"Why, Mr. Vice-President? Do you feel as if you should?" Secretary Richards cracked a small grin and said, "'_Accept charity with humility in times of need, that you might offer it with grace in times of plenty. Thus is a Virtue granted us all.' _Third scroll from the Book of Pythia, I believe."

It sounded accurate enough, although the Gemmanese could likely have quoted it verse for verse. I really didn't mind him throwing scripture at me, at least not if it meant minimizing our expected debt to these people. "I shouldn't be surprised Colonel Thrace...imparted such information to you. I understand she had quite a spiritual streak underneath that uncouth exterior of hers."

"Oh, that didn't come from Colonel Thrace. At least not directly."

"Excuse me?" Further discussion was momentarily derailed as the hatch behind us unlocked and opened, admitting Adama back in the room with the Terran Marine officer from earlier behind him. He looked pale, even shell-shocked. I noted the grimace that passed between him and Richards as he re-took his seat beside me. Surprisingly, it wasn't a hostile or angry one; more like...resigned to something only they understood.

Doubtless, it had something to do with Thrace, who was conspicuously absent.

"Admiral," Richards nodded as if nothing had passed between them. "I was just stating we have some relief supplies provisioned and incoming for your people."

Adama nodded, still looking distracted. "How soon?"

Richards consulted his watch. "About two, three hours at most."

"For the record," Adama stated abruptly. "For the record, Colonel Thrace has explained her reasons for remaining aboard _Olympus_. I...support...that decision for the moment and consider her...a closed issue."

"For the moment," Richards stated.

"For the moment," Admiral Adama reaffirmed. "Before we can continue these discussions, however; I feel my staff and I, as well as the President and _her_ staff, be allowed to review the materials you've gathered both on your original find in…Lass-kah, was it?"

"Close enough."

"I also want _all_ medical files and transcripts you have concerning Colonel Thrace's arrival on your planet. And my 'all' I mean every single x-ray, scan, nurse's chart, slip of paper, and..."

Richards held up both hands, making it clear he got the message. "We've already begun having it compiled and translated for you. It'll just take a couple hours to finish and box up."

"Good." That apparently was all Adama had to say on the issue.

I decided to try to lighten the mood that settled after that. "Any chance for an actual meal while we wait?" There were murmurs of interest throughout the room, with again two notable exceptions who were busy staring it other down through their glasses.

This, I decided, was something to watch carefully.

* * *

**De author seez: **_yes, I realize it seems to be moving a little slowly. I'm hoping things will pick up soon, but I'm kinda dependent upon what these characters see fit to tell me.(insert massive sigh here) In the meantime, PLEASE REVIEW!_

_Well, see ya Friday._


	12. Chapter 12

**Part Twelve**

**+05:20:20**

_**(Roslin)**_

If I'd learned anything since our worlds ended - beyond what a sick sense of humor the Gods had - it was that there was no real difference between what one might think as 'historic' versus the everyday and ordinary. The day of the attacks began no differently than the day before it after all, so why should the day we finally met our cousins have been one where my ever-weakening body actually worked properly?

Both Bill and Secretary Richards moved quickly to catch me before I fell completely forward, having tripped over my own godsbedamned feet. Zeus himself was likely laughing himself hoarse as Secretary Richards' own footing collapsed under him. We very nearly ended up in a decidedly undignified heap on the floor. Fortunately Bill managed to steady me while the Secretary righted himself, barely and with no real grace to him.

This actually made me feel a bit better, as did the clearly-embarrassed glance he and I exchanged. "Um," he tried to break the momentary silence that resulted, only to have the attempt fall flat. This left it to me.

"Perhaps we could...start again, Mr. Secretary?"

"I'd rather not repeat this entrance, if that's alright."

"Er, quite," I smiled, then extended my hand. "Laura Roslin, serving President of the Twelve Colonies."

"Benjamin Richards," he replied, grasping it gently. "Secretary of State for the United Nations of planet Earth." Only once this was out did he return the smile. "I hope you're more prepared for...all _this_...than I am," he added quietly.

It was an unexpected admission, to say the least. One that had Bill and I exchanging a surprised look. "Um..." was all I could respond with.

Bill came to my rescue. "The Secretary is here at my invitation, Madame President."

"I see." The truth was I didn't and really had no idea how to proceed here. In truth my head was starting pounding like a drum. My discomfort must have shown as Secretary Richards waved towards nearby sofa.

"Perhaps we should sit down?" he offered.

"Perhaps we should," I agreed, which he and I did. Bill and his Terran counterpart remained standing, taking up position behind each of us. It seemed so natural then, as if we were following a long-established protocol.

"So?" I gave him as winning a smile as I could manage.

He returned in kind. "So?" A quick glance towards Bill, who was standing over my shoulder, and he added "Yes and no."

"Pardon?"

"Are we the Thirteenth Colony? I believe that's the question of the hour, right?"

Either he'd put a lot of thought and practice into this exchange or he was a master at improvisation. This sounded entirely too practiced to be anything but the former.

I turned his statement over in my head for a few beats and considered the larger implications. Bill hadn't mentioned anything about leaving either Zarek or anyone else behind, something I'm absolutely sure he'd have mentioned before bringing Richards in like this (even with the more immediate burden he'd been carrying).

And, much as I might have wished to just accept what Secretary Richards was saying right then, the professional in me demanded it be done _properly_. The absolute last thing I wanted or needed was to wreck any hope we had of reaching Earth. That meant I had to nip this meeting in the bud and get a reasonably coherent debrief from Bill and the others so we could all proceed together. I suspected Bill was still reeling from finding out Kara Thrace was alive and…well…

Summoning as much authority I could under the circumstances, I stated "Mr. Secretary, much as I'd like to continue this dialogue, I should first speak with the Admiral and my Vice-President."

"I completely agree," Richards nodded after barely a heartbeat's consideration. He seemed quite earnest and, if I was reading him right, more than a tad relieved.

I stopped myself right there and looked at him again. For just a heartbeat he looked like a slightly older Billy, albeit one who could dress sedately and stay groomed. A quick glance at the Commodore standing behind him had me thinking of what Bill might have looked like an eon ago if he hadn't been cut out of the Fleet so quickly after that joke of an Armistice. He looked no less relieved at my request and Richards' agreement.

The Secretary in question stood and nodded to Bill. "Admiral? Perhaps you should begin bringing in the materials we brought over?" Something resembling a growl rumbled out of Bill as he nodded and moved to the door.

I was about to ask precisely what 'materials' the Secretary was talking about when several Marines filed in, each carrying large boxes in their arms. They carefully stacked these containers one atop the other wherever they could find the room, ultimately making eight towers of various sizes and virtually filling the Admiral's already cluttered up cabin.

I'd kept my expression carefully neutral throughout this, finally looking towards Richard's with upraised eye-brows. The Secretary gave a small shrug of apology and gestured to the containers surrounding us. "These boxes contain a capsule history of our planet, as well as details on our finding the ship we presumed was used by our mutual ancestors. All of it has been translated into your language. Has the Admiral told you about, ahem, Colonel Thrace?"

"He has," I nodded quickly, not wanting to linger on that particular issue just yet. I knew at some point I was going to need to address the issue with Lee; self-preservation alone compelled me to have an actual strategy to do so. "I presume she's covered in...all this, somewhere?" I asked, mimicing Richard's casual swing.

"She is. In fact I believe all this is equal part's planetary history, the colony ship, and Kara Thrace."

I couldn't help but look slowly this way and that, wondering just how much paper (or whatever they used) we'd have to wade through. I felt faint just at the thought of it. Richard's next words didn't exactly help.

"Perhaps it would be easier if the Commodore and I stepped out and allowed you and the Admiral to review all this?"

I took another look at 'all this' and wondered if this wasn't some kind of perverse joke. His eyes made it clear it was anything but.

**

* * *

**

+09:30:24

By the time we came up for air, Bill and I had worked our way through a good portion of the planetary history and had a good grasp of the circumstances and work surrounding the colony ship the Terrans had dug up. Likely we'd would not have made it as far as we did if Commodore Avery-Hunter hadn't elected to remain behind to assist us. I was relieved beyond words when Bill had suggested it and Richards had easily agreed.

I'd been a school teacher long before I became either the Secretary of Education or the President of the Colonies. I'd written up more lesson plans and edited more text books on history and basic skills than I could count. Yet everything we'd read made me feel like an amateur in comparison. The two thousand year history of the Twelve Colonies, from founding to the Holocaust, seemed almost nothing in comparison to what our cousins had done and undone over the same time period. To say nothing of the dizzying array of civilizations and cultures that had originated before our mutual ancestors arrived.

I could see what we'd read was a heavily truncated history, but it seemed like every other page told of some war breaking out somewhere on their little globe or an empire being founded or destroyed. It was likely a reflection on the fact they had only their own planet upon which to live, whereas we'd had a solar system boasting 12 habitable planets. We'd been fortunate in that it gave us extra 'space' in which grow, and - if I were being honest - to forcibly relocate troublesome elements so they were...out of the way. I wondered how many Terran nation-states had been founded as penal colonies as Aerleron had, or were settled by the excessively devout like Gemmenon began with.

From what I read, it was only in the last century that our cousins had finally reached the point we ourselves had begun with at Landing. Even then they were plagued almost nonstop by political and religious strife, with the added threat of nuclear suicide hanging over them all for the latter half of the century. I couldn't imagine how they'd managed to push out of their atmosphere, even if only to their planet's only moon, under those circumstances.

Atop all this, I was struck by the sheer number of languages spoken and religious creeds practiced by the Terrans. It explained a little as to why they seemed to have such a habit of going to war over what, objectively, were small and even silly reasons. The Colonies had been founded largely through war after Landing, and the First Cylon War saw death and destruction on a scale rarely dreamed of. But just the little I had read was nearly enough to have me re-think wanting to settle among a people who'd spent generation upon generation pointing nuclear arsenals at each other and undertaking the not-so-occasional pogrom.

The Commodore must have sensed my growing reluctance, directing us to reports of more recent events. Fifty years ago, right around the time Auric Cylon had begun tinkering with the first model of Centurion, our Terran cousins had come within a hair's breath of wiping themselves out when a customized virus (apparently originally intended to control some troublesome species of insects) mutated unexpectedly. By some small miracle, this 'Blight' quickly mutated again into something otherwise benign before dying away completely. This was cold comfort to the four-point-eight billion dead, but at least it convinced the survivors to put aside most of their differences and actually come together as a species.

From there on things settled onto more familiar and calmer ground, reading more like our own after the Armistice. They reached beyond their planet, beginning settlements on their moon and next closest planet, while at the same time working to repair much of the harm their parents and grandparents had done to Terra itself.

I lingered over the photos of Earth and its environs that were included. For a planet that was 70% water, their handfuls of continents were home to every conceivable terrain and environment. Tears prickled my eyes at sights that reminded so much of Caprica and Picon. Strange-yet-not wildlife was captured in these images as well, as were all manner of dress and behavior of the Terrans themselves. If I hadn't known better I would have sworn the people pictured were from our own homeworlds, the uniform blue skies overhead being the only sign I wasn't looking at the islands of Aquaria or the wide dunes of Aerleron.

As impressive as all this was, the materials on the colony ship grabbed my attention and held tight. The Find, as it became known, happened entirely by accident. A forest reclamation project far into their northern hemisphere had been delayed due to inclement weather, which had caused a mudslide that uncovered a small portion of the hull of the colony ship. This naturally put the replanting on hold for a bit while academics worked on excavating what was presumed to be some long-buried native settlement or something equally mundane.

Much of the early material were photos and sonar imagery, the latter of which had hand-written scribbles in the Terran's alphabet I didn't even try to decipher. Based on how sloppy said scribbles were, I suspected they were notes written in excitement. A hand-drawn diagram of the dig site was likewise scribbled over with notes and calculations, nearly obscuring the crude but almost familiar outline.

The dig had gone only a month, uncovering more and more of the ship, when the military stepped in. Men and women wearing sky-blue berets, caps, and helmets occupied many of the next batch of photos. I saw no weapons in evidence, so I guessed they were engineers and technicians. Certainly there were plenty of construction vehicles shown, all laboring over the ever-more exposed hull.

Commodore Avery-Hunter explained it took over a year of non-stop work to fully uncover the ship, primarily because they were also looking for bodies or other artifacts that might have been buried in the surrounding area. There were also safety issues that required constant monitoring; after all, who knew what kind of germs or the like might have been lurking inside that long-buried hull?

They'd erected an airtight seal over and explored the ship at length before beginning disassembly of it for transport southwards. All this had taken another four years as the Terrans had been cautious to the point of paralysis; with good cause, I had to admit now, given this discovery came barely a generation after The Blight died out.

I couldn't help but be impressed with the industry and enterprise of our Terran cousins. They'd managed to completely dismantle the ship, airlift it by sections across a continent to some great hole in the desert, and reconnected the pieces perfectly. It left me to wonder how much of their fleet was based on that same source; as Bill was refraining from asking any questions right then, I decided to be prudent to follow his lead.

The Commodore was being generous with his commentary and I certainly didn't want to spook him into shutting up. Some things I could have gone without knowing right then, like how there were at least five different major power blocs at work on Earth and a few weaker ones, each of whom would likely have their own reactions and demands upon us. Avery-Hunter and Richards represented the United Nations, which was just one of the big five but which had been granted authority to make first contact with us.

Upon hearing this, I asked the room "Where is Secretary Richards right now?" I'd directed the question to Bill, but it was the Commodore who answered.

"I believe he said something about finding a Triad game, Ma'am."

My head went light as my throat seized. I had to remind myself to start breathing after a few beats. Bill just went still and pale.

"Um..." was all I could verbalize right then.

_TBC..._


	13. Chapter 13

**Part 13**

**+20:11:50**

**CIC, Terran Battlestar **_**Olympus**_

I stood there, staring at the main AEGIS display and dearly wishing I'd ever been born.

The last fifteen-plus hours had ridden me hard, juggling unfamiliar roles making and delegating tasks on the fly. It was a minor miracle the meetings with the Quorum and distribution of relief supplies had gone so smoothly thus far, even if I had been effectively ordered back to _Olympus_. Thank the gods the EU had so many Greek-speakers on hand and weren't making an issue about his commandeering four container ships. The fact Thrace had been the "exclusive property" of the UN since her landing at Nellis had been a slightly sore point with Brussels the last year and I had no doubt this was meant to engender some good will from the Colonists.

Still, I couldn't escape the feeling something was about to go wrong at any moment. Evidentially my anxiety had become bad enough Major Agathon and Avery-Richards had practically ordered me out of Conference Delta, where the disbursement of supplies were being coordinated, with the polite-if-firm-as-concrete 'suggestion' I get some rest.

And to think, it only been yesterday that I'd been sitting in Beijing, fighting to look alert and attentive to the latest set of demands from the Committee on Trade and Commerce despite being bored stupid. Had I actually been wishing some cosmic crisis would land on our collective heads so I could escape the Mandarins?

Be careful what you wish for.

* * *

I wandered about the corridors of the _Olympus _for a little bit, somehow finding myself up in the CIC. Callisto was on the flight deck, acting as our eyes-ears-hands down there and working to minimize friction between our crews and the Colonials. Ted was back aboard the _Galactica_, which was functioning as the Colonial's temporary administrative center. Normally _Colonial One_would have served there, but Adama had insisted Roslin stay there and having Ted there made more sense having my hyper self standing over their shoulders.

Kara was – by mutual decree of myself, Rice, Adama, and Roslin – confined to her quarters until we could come up with a decent strategy for revealing her presence to the rest of the Colonial fleet. Apparently there was some kind of religious sect that had risen in the past couple years, whose doctrines were...ambiguous...to say the least. There hadn't been any known instances of violence committed by or against them yet, but it was agreed having Kara Thrace suddenly reappear might cause more problems than any of us needed just now.

I wasn't sure what was more surprising: the fact Adama and Roslin backed Ted and I on this, or that Kara herself was so...agreeable to it. Ted must have shared my unvoiced suspicions that she was planning something as he immediately ordered her Marine guard be doubled and privately ordered that Shan keep us alert on her movements.

This however meant there was no-one I immediately recognized there and nothing really for me to do there. Somehow this seemed a depressingly reflective of my life now. I was even starting to contemplate if I could swing another visit to the holding cell in _Galactica_, inadvisable as that might be, when a familiar voice rang out over the comms.

"Pass the word: Secretary Richards please contact the flight deck." It was Callisto herself, which caused my ears to immediately perk up. Olympius Callisto wasn't the sort to buck the chain of command in all the years I'd known her, so for her to be calling the nominal top of the totem pole directly was more than a little unusual.

I picked up the handset and stated "This is Richards. Go ahead, Commander."

"_Mr. Secretary, the Caprican representative from the Quorum has just arrived."_

"So?" We'd had members of the Quorum shuttling on and off the _Olympus_ for the last ten hours. I'd given up trying to keep track of which ones were coming or going a full eight hours ago.

"_He carries a written request from Admiral Adama to be allowed access to the Colonel."_

Now _that _was unusual. "Read it to me."

"_Yes, Sir. Message begins with salutation: To Secretary of State Benjamin Richards and the officers and crew of the Battlestar _Olympus_. Text of the request: I formally and respectfully ask the bearer of this message be provided immediate and direct access to the Commander of Combined Air-wings of the Terran Defense Fleet. He is the Caprica Representative and it is of critical importance that he be allowed to do so. Signed, William Adama, Admiral, Colonial Fleet."_

"And that's a word-for-word translation?"

"_Affirmative." _She paused, giving me a chance to digest this. _"Shall I send him up to you in Conference Delta?"_

"I'm in CIC right now. And no. Escort him to her cabin yourself..."

"_And his children, Sir?"_

"He brought his kids?"

"_Apparently, Sir. Two daughters, names are given as Cassandra and Payamintra."_

"Young?"

"_Very."_

"Okay. Escort them all to Thrace's cabin. Make sure the kids don't go wandering off anywhere. I'll call ahead and give them a head's up."

"_Understood. Callisto clear." _

The line went silent and I was left to puzzle out what I'd heard. Not coming to any immediate conclusions I called over my shoulder "Specialist, give me a line to the COMCAW's quarters." I had promised to alert Kara and company of their visitor.

"Go ahead, Sir," the rating replied after a moment.

It was Shan who picked up. _"Colonel Thrace's office."_

"Lieutenant Mahn, this is Secretary Richards. The Caprican Representative is aboard and is coming to visit the COMCAW, specifically at the request of Admiral Adama."

"_Was a reason given, Sir?"_

"No, and that has me a little puzzled. The XO is escorting him and his two daughters to the cabin now."

"_Shall I prepare to evacuate?"_

"I...don't know. The more I think about this the less sense it makes. Just...just keep yourself ready for anything. Oh, and tell the XO she's to remain there until Thrace gives an 'all clear' to her."

"_Understood, Mr. Secretary. Anything else?"_

"Not right now, Lieutenant. Richards clear." I set the handset down and contemplated this latest development.

Whatever Adama was playing at, presumably Roslin was in on it and Zarek wasn't, otherwise he'd have likely slipped word to us beforehand. The divisions within the Colonial government were already evident and I'd trying nonstop to keep them under control while the EU had it people around. Last thing any of us needed was Brussels making its own approach to them before we'd gotten them stabilized and settled. This was one of the reasons I'd put Ted on _Galactica_ and had Callisto minding the flight deck.

But this move of Adama's? I couldn't figure what prompted it or what it was in aid of. He knew about Kara, and had put it on record he wasn't going to force the issue of her refusing to go to the _Galactica_. She was in fact the only subject that actually hadn't come up in the exchanges I'd had with Adama and Roslin since my appearance to the Quorum.

This got me thinking about who I'd just allowed to come on board. Maybe it was simply how bad I was with faces and names – gods alone knew how often I'd called my sisters by our brother's names, and vice versa – but I couldn't immediately recall the name or face of the Caprican delegate. Had he been at that first meeting? I just couldn't recall.

Anyway, who the hell named their kid something as nonsensical and tongue-twisting as 'Payamintra'?

Shaking my head, I conceded this one was a bit beyond me. Fortunately I knew exactly where to inquire to get insight. I kept my eyes on the main AEGIS display, focusing on the blip representing the _Galactica, _as I called out "Specialist, open a line to _Galactica_ Actual, please."

I drummed my fingers on the planning board and stared a hole in the _Galactica's _icon as I waited. Eventually the comms monitor informed me "Line open, Sir."

"Thank you," I said superfluously as I lifted the handset and spoke into it. "_Galactica _Actual?"

"_Affirmative, Mr. Secretary." _Adama's voice came over the line. _"Is there something wrong?"_

"You tell me," I replied a tad tightly. "I've got the Delegate from Caprica and his daughters on their way to see Colonel Thrace, all per your written request. Can I ask why you felt this was of, quote, 'critical importance', unquote?"

"_Colonel Thrace was a resident of the city of Delphi on Caprica prior to the Cylon's attack. It was felt by the President and myself she should be put in contact with him."_

"Nice try, Admiral. You and I both know she was born on Picon. And from what little I know of Colonial law, a citizen's representative is determined by where they were born, not where they're living at any given moment." Something in the Admiral's tone put me on edge. "What's going on here, Adama?"

"_Its...personal. That's all I can really say."_

"Personal?"

"_Yes. Its not...related...in any way to our negotiations."_

"Why don't I believe that?" I hadn't meant to say that aloud, but I had and could sense another outburst coming. I needed to defuse this conversation and fast. Unfortunately, the next question that came out didn't help matters there. "Oh, gods. I haven't just put her in some kind of danger have I?" I demanded.

"_Of course not!"_Adama all but thundered back, causing me to flinch a bit. _"How could you think..."_

"Well what am I supposed to think, Adama?" I hissed back, mainly because I didn't want or need the CIC crew staring at me right then.

Adama's next reply sounded like he was pulling each word out of his throat with pliers. _"You have my word, Kara is in no danger from this visitor."_

"Visitors. Plural." I took a breath and tried to calm down. Hadn't I originally called to get information? Now I was on the verge of throwing all goodwill out the airlock and starting a full-blown shouting match with half of the Colonial leadership, over an open line no less. Hardly a good way to proceed.

Being a linguist, I'd long ago learned to listen to vocal cues – inflection, accent and the like – as well as the actual words being said. Thinking over something Adama had said a moment ago, when he paused over the word "related", suddenly had me thinking. Why was that important? It must have meant something if he felt he had to say it...

I went still as a most unsettling scenario came to mind. "Admiral?" I asked with absolute calm.

"_Yes, Mr. Secretary?"_came Adama's cold reply. I didn't pay it any mind as I asked the question I should have from the start.

"Who is the Caprican Representative?"

Adama took an audible breath. Then, he told me.

I felt my temples start to pound like a chorus of drums. I might have even said, or more likely screamed something aloud as I slammed the handset back down onto its cradle.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck!" I growled as I leaned heavily against the planning table. It was amazing I wasn't completely doubled over and retching up everything I'd eaten in the past week. Instead I just wished I had a stiff espresso at hand right then.

This was a damned nightmare, one that nearly elicited a crazed laugh. The absolute worst part of it was that I should have seen it coming from the moment Case MOSES had been declared, never mind as soon as _Galacitca _jumped into the system and it turned out Adama was still in charge.

I quickly calculated how long it would take Callisto to lead the 'Representative' to Kara's cabin. It was likely a futile gesture but I barked out "Give me a shipwide line!"

"Go ahead, Sir."

I picked up the handset I'd abused a few moments earlier and said "Pass the word. Lieutenant-Commander Callisto or Lieutenant Mahn contact the CIC immediately."

It was only a few very tense seconds before a reply came. _"Lieutenant Mahn, Mr. Secretary." _There was a breathless quality to the normally unflappable Vietnamese officer that had me immediately on edge.

"What's happening down there?"

"_The Representative has...Sir, Colonel Thrace has ordered we all clear her cabin."_

"Wonderful," I muttered. "Are you alright?"

"_Yes, Sir. I have the children with me..."_

"Relocate them to Conference Blue and keep them there for the time being. You have _all_ of them?"

"_Yes, Sir."_

"Then get those nuggets under cover until this blows over. Richards clear."

I dropped the handset and was sprinting out of the CIC. It would take me at least seven minutes to reach Thrace's cabin, which was eight minutes longer than any of us had to avert the likely bloodshed that was to come.

_TBC..._


	14. Chapter 14

_(Okay, here it comes. Buckle your seat belts and all that.)_

**Part 14**

**20:01:12**

**Battlestar **_**Olympus**_

**Quarters of Colonel Kara Thrace**

_**(Starbuck)**_

I was bored. 

It was over 20 hours since the Fleet jumped in and where was I? Confined to quarters so some religious nut job didn't pull a 'Cally' on me. If it weren't for my '_other_ responsibilities', I'd have told Rice, Ben, the Old Man, and Roslin to shove it and taken over the distribution of supplies myself. 

When the Old Man had let it slip how Roslin had nearly been assassinated by the Sadeim Nomen eighteen months ago, and that Sam was…gone…as well, that convinced me staying put was the safer option. The 'disobey and die' glare Ben and Rice had been perfecting for two years sealed it. I'm quite sure Shan would've preferred walling me up in my bedroom if it weren't for the fact I wasn't sleeping alone these days.

Cold comfort, given I was so frakking bored I was seriously considering playing a game of Triad with Shan, or asking (again) if I could sketch her in the nude. The entertainment value of either was minimal at best; Shan couldn't bluff to save her life, and all I'd gotten for my previous requests to sketch her was a cool eyebrow and hundred-mentra stare. The latter wouldn't let up, at least not until the nugget woke up, at which time Shan would say our mutual goose was cooked.

I had no idea what that meant, but she made it sound pretty damned _serious_.

What I _should_ have been doing during all this was putting some kind of summary report on paper for either the Old Man or Ben. I mean I was the _only_ Colonial officer around with any experience on Earth, so you'd think I'd have been sat down somewhere by the Old Man and directed to tell all. Then again, I'd seen the sheer number of boxes Ben had taken over to the _Galactica_ and listened in on his testimony to the Quorum. In light of all that, the most I could tell anyone was how the Nevada desert got damned cold at night and that the nightlife in Las Vegas sucked.

I'd spent most of the time puttering around the cabin, idly flicking through flight and hardware manuals and thinking up comparisons and contrasts with what I figured the Fleet still had operating. I even started jotting down a list of replacement parts the _Olympus_ and her sisters might be able to provide the Bucket, only for it to quickly fill the entire page and not cover a tenth of what was probably needed at this point. 

Instead of continuing this futile effort, I contented myself with making paper airplanes and seeing how far they would fly. Most of the ones I'd aimed at Shan, who had taken up residence on the couch, fell short. The few that didn't were set aside without comment, which actually meant she was annoyed with me but wasn't going to saying anything. I was starting to think I'd have to resort to tossing crumpled up paper her way, just to get a reaction out of her to break the tedium. 

What killed me was that I didn't know what was happening anywhere. Had the Secretary General spoken with Roslin yet? Were there any hiccups distributing the MREs that had been shipped in? Were full negotiations going on right now? Who was talking to whom about what?

I prayed to Athena and Artemis that The Octagon wasn't shipping Secretary Baker up here. While Ben outranked him, Anthony Archibald Baker IV had a tendency to poke his nose where it wasn't welcome. I'd quit counting how often I'd tossed him out of my office after it reached double-digits. Likely as not he'd get along fine with Zarek, and _that_ was a scenario only slightly less scary than the whole Cylon fleet jumping in on top of us.

Both Shan and I jumped when the wall-phone chimed. My aide was closer and faster than me in getting to it. "Colonel Thrace's office," she stated in her usual, deadpan tone. She listened and asked 

"Was a reason given, Sir?"

_Oh, joy, _I thought to myself. Something happened somewhere and they were just getting around to telling me. It was like I was back on Nellis just after I awakened. Shan's next words made me forget about all that.

"Shall I prepare to evacuate?"

"Evacuate?" I mouthed silently to her. She fixed her almond eyes on the wall behind me. Some unpleasant scenarios came to mind.

Shan nodded and finished with "Understood, Mr. Secretary. Anything else?" Apparently there wasn't and she set the handset on its cradle. 

I quickly asked "Okay, what's happening?" 

"The Caprican Delegate to the Quorum is aboard with written directions from Admiral Adama to speak with you."

"That's weird. Did Ben say why?"

"No, Colonel. The Secretary of State did not know. The Executive Officer is escorting him here from the flight deck."

I gave my aide a look. "You know, you're freaking out like this isn't helping _me_ keep from freaking out."

"I am not 'freaking' out, Colonel." She actually sounded a bit offended by this, more so than if she were addressing another superior officer. I took this as a sign of how comfortable we'd gotten around each other.

"Yes, you are," I smirked. "You start referring to people by their formal titles when you get nervous." When she had nothing to say to that, I added "And you only call me 'Colonel' when you're _really_ on edge."

My aide and nursemaid/bodyguard for the last year, who could likely take down a Centurion barehanded, pursed her lips and fought against some response of her own. But it was close and might have actually broken through if a soft whimper from the back didn't interrupt us right then. 

I gave Shan a small pat on the shoulder and said, "I'll throw on a new jacket and see what's up with you know who. Just relax, okay?" She nodded, clearly still steaming. With that, I moved to my partitioned rack in the back of the cabin. The front wasn't much more spacious compared to the Pilot's Quarters I'd lived with aboard _Galactica_, but the bedroom in the back was positively luxurious. About half the size of the front room, with a private head and shower no less. 

But the bed was what took up my attention every time. The mattress was made of some kind of wonder foam that adjusted to the contours of whoever was laying on it, which made it feel like I was sleeping on nothing but air. It had the added bonus of pretty much of keeping said person in place without disturbing whoever might be beside them.

This was why I was able to sit down and not worry about jostling the one year-old child who was just waking from her nap. "Hey, nugget," I murmured softly as my daughter looked up at me. 

I hated it when she did that; those damned eyes of her were too wide, too smart...too damned blue for me to resist. She waved her little arms up at me and stuck her lower lip out in a too-familiar pout; her not-very-subtle demand to be picked up _immediately_.

I retained enough presence of mind to murmur "Just a second, 'kay?" 

Aurora _never_ liked having to wait for anything, and wasn't shy about registering her protest. Admittedly it wasn't more than a small whimper and sticking her lip out a little further, but it had the desired effect of hurrying me into getting a fresh uniform jacket and picking her up as demanded. She had most of the staff at Nellis wrapped around her pudgy pinky and me twice over. Thankfully this didn't impact my authority too seriously; no-one was willing to risk potential consequences of crossing her (and by extension Rice, Ben and myself).

"Shhhh, 'kay? There. Mommy's here." I hummed a lullaby Rice had used on her in the past. Apparently she preferred his version as she got squirmy. I patted her diaper to make sure she didn't need changing. "What's up, huh?"

She answered by tugging hard on my collar and smacking her lips. "Hungry, huh? Okay, let's get this meet-n-greet out ofthe way and we'll get lunch. Behave yourself, 'kay?"

Aurora blew a mouthful of spit bubbles as an answer. "You are such a spoiled brat, nugget," I grinned, which my all-time favorite nugget quickly copied. Gods, if I didn't grow a backbone with her soon she'd be talking me into flying shotgun with me. 

There was a commotion in the front room, though a subdued one. Doubtless Shan was working her usual magic in keeping the hubbub to a minimum. "Should we go rescue whoever it is from you Aunt Shan, hmm?"

Aurora just yawned and began gumming her fist. I settled her on my shoulder and nudged the door open with my foot. This gave me a few seconds to take in the new arrivals who were presently crowding up my living room/office. Shan was there of course, and the XO I recognized immediately. Neither one looked particularly pleased but not unduly tense. 

All the tension was rolling off the civvie who had his back to me. I figured this must be the Quorum Delegate that Callisto had been told to escort here. What caught me was how he hadn't come alone or empty-handed; a dark-haired little girl - maybe five years old at most - was resting her round face on his left shoulder, while a blond girl about the same age clung to his right hand and was mirroring her guardian's straight-back stance. 

It was the latter who caught sight of me first, glancing over her small shoulder and immediately hitting me with a wide smile of absolute joy. "Ka-wah," she crowed excitedly, letting go the hand and almost throwing herself at me before I was fully into the room. I stumbled back into the bedroom by the force, and I had to fight to maintain my balance; her presence alone was enough to knock me mentally askew and nearly lose my grip on Aurora, who just giggled at the sudden movement.

I recognized her immediately, even if my throat had momentarily seized up so I couldn't say her name. 

"You're here! You went away and you're here!" my attacker panted, affixing herself to my leg and causing me to become even more unsteady.

"Hey, easy," I hissed, biting down on a flare of anger and embarrassment, tightening my hold on Aurora (who, naturally, was having a grand time). Getting my physical feet under me, I began work on getting my mental ones similarly settled. Gently disengaging my surprise guest, I knelt down to look into her wide eyes. 

"Kacey," was all I could breathe, especially after she enthusiastically threw her chubby arms around my neck. How I managed to accommodate this without dropping the nugget I'll never know. I even managed to wrap my other arm around her and hold her as tightly. We stayed that was for several beats, my mind still so numb from shock I didn't even think to try to introduce Aurora.

It was Kacey who broke away first, squirming her way free and grabbing my free hand tightly. "C'mon," Kacey insisted. "Got to meet daddy!" Despite the fact I towered a good two feet over her and outweighed her by at least nine stone, she made good headway in pulling back to the door. I wondered idly how Julia Brynn had managed to marry into the Quorum.

Such musing ended abruptly when we re-entered the front. The Quorum Delegate had turned around by then, giving me a good look at who he was. 

I'm not sure what happened immediately after that. There might have been someone talking, or shouting for that matter; I couldn't hear anything beyond my suddenly thunderous heartbeat. I was distantly aware Shan taking the ever-squirmy Aurora off my hands. I'd remember to chastise myself later for neglecting my daughter's welfare like that.

Right then, the…person…standing opposite took up my whole attention.

When I finally came back to myself, I realized we were now alone in the room. Callisto and Shan must have evacuated when I went all wild-eyed and silent; given my 'reputation', they were probably thinking I was going to go berserk and start throwing things. Ha, as if I'd subject my nugget to that kind of shit. 

I probably should have felt bad about that, except I couldn't think of anything past the way-too-wide, way-too-blue eyes that were regarding me barely a metra away.

I forced my lips to work. They curled into something like a smile on their own just as my voice came back. It was like I'd become a passenger in my own body, experiencing everything at a distance but not actually taking part. 

The words slipped out all on their own as well. 

"Hi, Lee."

_TBC…real soon! _

**_De author seez:_** Well, quite a few reviewers called it right. Of course nothing is ever simple with these two, so keep those seatbelts fastened!

Remember: MORE REVIEWS MORE FANFIC!


	15. Chapter 15

Part 15

**Part 15**

**+19:01:01**

_**Colonial One**_

_**(Apollo)**_

I stepped off the shuttle, exhausted beyond words. I'd just come from the _Halycon, _having spent the last three hours ensuring – with the help of our Terran cousins – that the Tauron and Lybrian passengers wouldn't start killing each other over the supplies being carted over. The Terrans must have been old hands at that kind of strife, given how easily they kept the crowds under control. For once, I was actually glad to feel useless.

Thankfully, this was more the exception than the rule; the distribution of food packs and other sundries had been pretty smooth thus far, even among the Sagittarians. I credited that small miracle to Secretary Richards being so forthright in his testimony to the Quorum, as well as entertaining questions from the press as he had.

Unfortunately, it seemed like there were still a hundred and one things that needed doing and settling and smoothing out, more often than not involving some other member of the Quorum itself. Zarek was actually being a major help there, especially since Laura was still under guard aboard _Galacitca._ I'd been wondering for over a year how or when the Vice President would make some kind of play for her office, only to watch him remain the dutiful functionary and not make a single move without her direct approval.

It seemed miracles were becoming everyday occurrences now. I even found myself wondering that very day if Kara was going to magically appear to me again. I just wasn't sure if I really wanted her to; its not like anyone ever believed me before and I certainly wouldn't go advertising it this time. It had taken most of the last two years – first as Laura's officially-_un_official messenger service, then as the stand-in Delegate for Caprica – to convince enough people I wasn't completely insane that I could formally adopt the girls.

At least I was semi-good terms with Dad for a change. I'm not sure if that was because I'd actually made him a grandfather or that I wasn't asking to be returned to Flight Status yet. Perhaps he'd finally accepting we were different people. Better late than never.

Right then I simply stood in the landing bay and fought to gather my thoughts. It felt like I'd been in constant motion since, well, forever. But now Helo and the senior Terran officers clearly had things under control as far as disbursement went, and enough Terrans spoke our language that they could instruct and answer questions when needed. I was strongly tempted to declare myself a little rack time, or at least an hour or two with the girls so they wouldn't think I was abandoning them. They seemed to need that reassurance frequently given their respective losses.

Confident Zarek wouldn't deny me that small request, especially in light of all the heavy lifting I'd done singlehandedly in the last fifteen hours, I moved to the stairwell leading to the upper decks.

The residences – if a bunch of partitioned alcoves that were barely big enough for two, never mind three people could be called that – were on the floor directly atop the cargo hold, one deck down from main offices themselves. I breezed past those without a glance and made my way upwards. What puzzled me was how I didn't see anyone around. Normally there were at least a few staffers or Delegates to be found, milling about or conversing. I'd have thought there'd be even more of that now.

Instead, it was nothing but empty corridors and desks and makeshift cubicles. I fought down a spike of worry and just concentrated finding someone, _anyone_, so I had an idea about what was going on.

The topmost deck used to serve as the main passenger compartment. It had since become the President's office and press room, somewhere I seemed to spend a good portion of my time these days. To my immense relief, Zarek and Avri Callis – the Quorum's press aide – were standing there in apparently intense discussion.

I cleared my throat to announce my presence. Both Zarek and Avri gave me a quick look before the former nodded and ended the discussion. Avri hurried away, leaving me with the Vice President. "Lee," he greeted me with another nod.

"Tom," I greeted in kind, immediately on guard. While our working relationship was hardly one of outright antagonism as it used to be, neither was it especially easy or close. We were polite to the point of icy formality normally.

"What's going on? Where is everyone?" I asked, wanting to get to the point as quick as possible. Instead of answering directly Zarek gave me a long look, then handed over a single piece of paper. I took it after another beat and studied it closely.

While it wasn't addressed to me directly, it might as well have given its content. I wondered if Laura hadn't composed and the Admiral put his signature to it, just so I'd take a swing at him for being this high-handed. What really irritated me, besides the implicit order contained in the single paragraph before me, was how it was being communicated in the first place. Hadn't we finally gotten to where he could just call and ask me this stuff?

I rubbed my hairy chin for several more moments, trying to divine Dad's purpose behind this. Like the rest of the Quorum and Presidential staff I'd lookedthrough the briefing materials Richards had brought with him, including the short bits about the TDF's rank structure and composition. I vaguely recalled the 'Commander of Combined Air-Wings' was some kind of senior administrative position, though it looked like it sat outside the usual chain of command. I'd just presumed whoever was sitting in that position was planetside and wasn't aboard either the _Olympus_ or its sisters.

"I take it this was brought over by courier?" I asked. The signature line held a familiar scrawl, which meant Dad had signed this himself. That was an event in itself these days, and left me all the more puzzled.

Zarek confirmed with a quick nod. "Captain Dualla brought it..."

"Dee was here?" I broke in, only to be ignored.

"...Herself. She was quite adament you see it as soon as you returned." Zarek paused and blew a breath. "She had your daughters with her, as well. Apparently at the Admiral's direction."

Which meant Laura was behind this, as she was the only one my girls really listened to besides myself. Yes, my relationship with my father was about as tangled and complicated as the wiring aboard _Galactica_, all the more so since I'd adopted my children. But I seriously thought we'd gotten past the point where he'd put his grandchildren at any risk on what looked like a whim.

Zarek must have sensed my unease as he quickly stated, "They were aboard a Raptor, with a Marine guard and apparently behaved like the sweetest angels this side of the Student Choir from Leonis."

I couldn't help the relieved chuckle that escaped me as I wondered their 'Grandma' Laura had promised them something to get them to behave like that. Didn't hurt they both liked my ex-wife and her new husband enough to accept them as occasional babysitters.

That said, I couldn't help but still put off by all this. I was technically outside Dad's command now and had been for some time. So what the frak prompted this little missive?

"Do we even know who this 'Commander' is?"

"Oddly, no. The name wasn't listed anywhere we could find, and the Terrans have been...cagey...about talking about it."

"Cagey?" That sounded a bit off, especially how forthcoming everyone of them was being. "How so?"

"They'll say its a 'senior position' and that the officer in question was aboard _Olympus_ at this time was purely coincidence. But that's it." He shrugged. "Any insights as former military?"

"I wish. It sounds like an Admiral's billet, although Rice doesn't seem to be worried about being overruled on anything." Back in the Colonies, my few interactions with the topmost brass reminded me of puppies fighting over a toy. It seemed odd how Admiral's stars seemed to reduce their ability to get along with their peers to the point of fighting over the smallest bit of professional territory.

Perhaps, given their own recent trials, the Terrans had come to value teamwork over all else. Certainly they seemed to attack every task with the kind of collective energy I often wished we had in the Colonies and were only just learning to since. I had to credit Tyrol for coming up with the Fleet-wide cross-training program. At least now we weren't utterly dependent upon a select few trained personnel to keep the ships running.

Despite that, I couldn't shake the feeling there was something more to this directive from Dad. Maybe he'd met this 'COMCAW' at some point and figured a civilian liason was necessary.

Whatever the reason behind it, I just couldn't come up with an acceptable reason to refuse it. Zarek nevertheless offered me an out. "You've been running yourself pretty ragged the last day, Lee. I could tell the Admiral you aren't up to it right now."

I shook my head. "No, no. If it's me they want over there, there must be a reason for it. Better I...we find out what it is, right?"

"If that's how your feel," Zarek nodded, reluctantly accepting my decision.

"Say, where is everyone?" I asked suddenly, puzzled by Zarek's lopsided grin.

"Would you believe everyone's out and about?"

"Everyone?"

"Yup. The only ones aboard right now are you, myself, Callis, Captain Hobart, and a couple of grunts down in engineering. The rest of the staff and Delegates are running about the Fleet making sure your hard work doesn't unravel." He met my eyes directly and said "Surely you don't think the _Halycon_ is the only place tensions have been running a little high?"

I grunted, not entirely ready to concede his point. I honestly hadn't thought about it too much, which washardly surprising given the sheer volume problems I'd been ironing out the past two days. "The last Terran team that was over here left a thermos of something that tastes like coffee in the galley," the Vice President informed me. "Why don't you get some before the Raptor comes back?"

"When's that?"

"About half an hour. Captain Hobart will announce when they're in range." I nodded, suddenly more tired than I could recall. I wandered one deck down and found the aforementioned item. Sitting down at one of the tables, I unscrewed the lid and poured a myself a cup of it, taking an exploratory sniff of it before taking a full sip.

There was no way to contain my wince of pain as the cool liquid drained down my throat and pulled at my molars. Damn but these people made their coffee strong. I actually felt light-headed for a few seconds as the drink made its way to my stomach, which rolled a bit.

After a few minutes, the world stopped shaking enough to where I was ready to try another cup of this stuff. I was suddenly awake and more aware than I could ever remember being; I promised myself I'd get more this 'espresso' stuff from the Terrans at the next opportunity.

Provided I could keep my sudden shaking under control enough to actually speak, that is.

* * *

**+20:05:02**

**Port Flight Deck, Battlstar **_**Olympus**_

We followed the military tradition of last-in-first-out as the Raptor settled onto the Flight Deck. I immediately wished I'd been the first one to board, if only so I would have had time to get used to the bright lights of the deck. It didn't help the headache that had been slowly developing over my right eye since Dee had picked me up off _Colonial One_.

Neither had Kacey's bouncing with her usual barely-restrained excitement for that matter. Paya had dropped off as soon as we'd cleared _Colonial One_'s hanger; she still hadn't developed 'space legs' and always fell asleep on shuttle or Raptor trips. This meant I had to keep one arm around Kacey's shoulders – lest she try climbing up into pilot's lap – while cradling Paya with my other while the three of us were crammed onto a very uncomfortable jump seat.

Nevertheless, I made sure to keep a firm grip on Kacey once the Marines on board undid the flight harness holding the three of us in place and the hatch finally opened. Otherwise it was a sure bet we'd have been chasing her all over the deck and probably into a Viper or two; not the sort of impression one wanted to give when one dropped in without prior announcement. Dee had explained en route this flight was just to bring a couple **of **civilian engineers to speak with their opposite numbers and help coordinate repair efforts on the more ramshackle ships in the Fleet. Apparently the Admiral had thrown my unscheduled meeting in at the last second, knowing full well I was busy elsewhere at the time and so couldn't raise an objection at the start. This, plus the presence of the girls, just reinforced my suspicion that Laura had a hand here.

Keeping grip on both my children, I exited the Raptor and looked around, having to squint hard past both the lights overhead and the odd spots that danced before my eyes every time I blinked. I felt hyper-aware, yet distant as we moved away from the Raptor If anything, Kacey was leading me by the hand, tugging me this way and that to avoid the many knuckdraggers (or whatever the Terrans called them). For once I was grateful she was such a bundle of energy, although how her late mother had kept her under control in Dogsville I've no clue.

I nearly jumped and spun about as someone tapped me on the shoulder. It was a blond-haired female officer, whose look communicated a fair mix of annoyance and forced politeness. "May I help you?" she asked in a way that communicated _You presence and existence inconveniences me mightily, friend._ I nearly laughed as Starbuck's face momentarily superimposed itself over hers.

"Sorry," I stated, raising my voice over the usual din of the flight deck. It took some deft maneuvering, but I managed to pull the letter from my jacket pocket while keeping my grip on Kasey (who was busy leaning towards a Viper undergoing servicing). The officer took it and read it carefully.

She looked up after a moment, straightening to attention and giving me a measured look. "These children are yours, Mr. Representative?" she asked.

"Yes."

"Please wait by the hatchway over there for a moment, Sir." Without waiting for confirmation, she quickly moved to the nearest wall-phone and began an intense discussion with someone. Not knowing what else to do, I pulled my ever-eager daughter over to the spot she directed and tried not to sway as I became increasingly light-headed.

"Wanna see Vipas, Daddy," Kacey whined.

"Not now, Kace," I shushed her. "Afterwards..."

The officer immediately called out "Sir?" I looked up. "What are the children's names?"

"Huh? Uh, Cassandra and Payamintra. Why?" Instead of answering, she immediately went back to her phone conversation. Kacey made more noise about Vipers and the like while Paya continued to nap on my shoulder. I could only thank the gods that, as completely different in temperment and energy as they were, my girls fit and worked together seemlessly.

The Terran officer hung up the phone and squared her shoulders. Evidentially she'd received new marching orders as she moved towards me with a stiff spine and respectful eyes. "I'm directed to escort you and your daughters directly the Colonel's cabin, Sir. Please follow me." She turned and marched throught the hatchway without another glance.

I followed her, tugging Kacey along after me and pointedly _not_ noticing how a brace of Terran Marines automatically fell into step behind us. As we walked, I paid close attention to the corridors and byways we moved through; perhaps it was my slightly overwhelmed senses, but I would have sworn the layout and design of them changed as we worked our way deeper and deeper into the ship.

I asked our guide "How old is this vessel, uh, Ma'am?" It occurred to me right then I had no idea what this woman's rank was or if she knew anyting about this ship.

Fortunately she didn't seem to mind being asked such questions. "The central hull was laid down ten years ago, but the flight pods were constructed on Earth over a three-quarters of a century ago as sea-going aircraft carriers, Sir. We simply cleaned them up and adapted them for work in space."

"I...see."

"And for the record, Sir, my rank is Lieutenant Commander. This is analagous to a Colonel in your Fleet."

"Okay, but aren't we going to meet a Colonel?"

"Yes, Sir. The COMCAW is considered a 'planet-side' position, not a ship-borne one. As such, it falls under the rank structure of the Marines as opposed to the Fleet."

"Sounds confusing, " I observed. The officer merely threw me a smirk over her shoulder.

"You should have seen it a century ago. Most nations had four separate service branches, each with a separate chain of command and rank system."

"Sounds _very_ confusing."

"Perhaps," she shrugged without breaking stride only to pause a moment later. Turning to face me directly she stated "As the Executive Officer I have ask, Sir. What's the reason for this meeting?"

_I wish I knew_, was my first thought. Instead I said "You'll have to take that up with my father, Commander."

This apparently brought her up short and she pinned me with a wide-eyed stare. "Wait. Adama is your father?"

"_Admiral_ Adama," I corrected her. "And yes." This earned me another appraising look, one that held something else I couldn't immediately identify.

Her next question only confused me worse. "Sir...Mr. Adama, are you aware of the COMCAW's name?"

"No. It wasn't listed in any of the materials I've seen."

The XO muttered something in another unfamiliar language, then turned and continued walking. The Marines and I followed, and at length we arrived at what I presumed was our destination. It looked no more elaborate than the dozens of other hatches we'd marched past, save a pair of Terran Marines who came to attention as we approached.

"A moment, Sir." The XO stepped up to a comm-unit embedded in the wall, exchanging low words with someone else again in a strange language. Richards had warned us during his testimony Earth had an abundance of languages and dialects, so I tried not to take this personally. But I couldn't entirely shake the feeling I was being deliberately shut out of...something.

The hatch popped open a second afterwards and myself, the girls and the XO (who's name still hadn't been offered or asked for) filed inside. We found ourselves in a slightly cluttered but otherwise orderly living room. I looked around awhile Kacey lounged at my side, trying to ascertain anything about the room's apparently-absent occupant.

The cabin turned out not to be as empty as I'd originally thought, as turning around I was surprised to see another female officer standing beside the XO. She was openly glaring at me in a way that put me back in mind of Starbuck. Her salute was crisp and professional however and she quietly introduced herself. "Lieutenant Xian Coy Mahn, Sir."

"Lieutenant," I nodded, only to have Kacey pull free from me with an incoherent cry at that same instant and all but throw herself through the half-open doorway directly behind us. I had to actually steady myself and shift Paya quickly from one arm to the other as a result. All I could do right then was to give the two officers before me an apologetic look as I tried to come up with a reasonable apology.

I was about to open my mouth when I spied something on the wall behind my hosts. A small painting canvas was leaning there, its pristine surface marked only by a swirl of red, blue and yellow that reminded me of...something...something I'd seen...somewhere...

Before I could ponder this any further, the door behind me creaked open and I felt another presence behind me. I turned...

And felt the world fall away from under me at the sight of...who...was...standing there.

Kara Thrace...wearing a Terran Fleet uniform...looking at me with eyes popping out of their sockets...

She was holding Kacey by one hand and, in a perfect mirror to me, was cradling a small child with her other. This made perfect sense; she always was my equal and opposite, my other half. It was only natural that she'd be cuddling a child if I was doing it as well.

While Kara handed Kacey and her own little burden over to Lieutenant Mahn, I wondered idly for a moment if the fact I'd finally lost my tenuous grip on sanity would impact on my custody of Kacey and Paya. It was probably just as well the XO gently took Paya off my hands at Kara's direction. I doubt I was going to be very good company when the phantom in front of me faded away as she always did.

Pretty soon we were completely alone, the XO and Lieutenant having left the room at Kara's hissed order. This really was the most accurate chimera my cracked brain had summoned yet. The other two times – first in the Ionian Nebula, and the next immediately afterwards in my cabin – she'd been more idealized. In the battle her Viper looked fresh off the assembly, and in my cabin her flight suit had gleamed like armor.

Now, here, she was rumpled, her uniform in typical disarray, and looking anything but ideal. She was _perfect_.

After a few seconds, she opened with her usual "Hi, Lee."

At least this time she looked properly chagrined and even a bit nervous when she said it.

I figured it would be rude not to play along with this delusion, if only for a few minutes more before the XO had me dragged away. "Hi yourself." I looked around the cabin again. "This seems familiar," I quipped, then looked at her. "Okay, let's hear it."

Kara actually looked confused. "Lee...?"

"You know," I prompted her. "Your usual little speech. 'Its going to be okay. I've been to Earth. And I'm gonna take us there.' Sound familiar?"

"Lee," she breathed. "You're starting to scare me."

"C'mon, Kara," I almost barked, impatient to get this torture over with. "You've come to me twice already and said the same lines each time. And then you've gone and vanished on me and everyone thinks I'm all frakked in the head. Hades, _I_ think I'm frakked in the head and I've got two daughters to take care of. _Plus_ the Quorum. _Plus_ the civic council and the damned Union. Don't tell me you forgot your damned script."

I made the mistake of actually focusing in on her again, seeing the single tear that leaking out of her eye. _Aw, frak_, I thought _Now I've gone and made her cry. Now I'll never see her again..._

All thought and breath stopped as she stepped forward and threw both her very solid, very real arms around me. I instinctively wrapped my own about her, feeling my throat close as her warmth enveloped me.

Our tears mingled as I buried my nose in her hair, her hands – beautiful and scarred in all the ways I remembered – bunching up the fabric of my jacket.

Maybe I wasn't crazy after all. Maybe I didn't frakking care anymore.

TBC...

* * *

**De author seez: **Well, there you go; the big meeting has finally happened. Are things going to get more complicated? Of course they are. That said, reviews and feedback are always welcome...even if its just to tell me to take a flying leap off a bridge.

I'd like to take this time to send a Battlestar-sized "THANK YOU" to my beta, P. Barker, without whom this story would be unreadable!

Next installment should be ready Friday, but no promises. Until then.


	16. Chapter 16

_(Okay, we're back to speaking two languages. Dialogue in **Bold** indicates Colonial Standard, and everything else is spoken in English. Yeah, confusing I know. Just imagine how it was for Starbuck!)_

**Part 16**

**+20:21:33**

**Battlestar **_**Olympus**_

_**(Richards)**_

"Make a hole! Make a hole!" I all but screamed as I ran through the corridors. Crew and officers were quick to do so, although more than a few gave me dirty looks…or hastily covered chuckles as I slipped trying to take a corner too quickly.

I might have laughed myself, if I weren't convinced actual _bloodshed_ inside a certain visiting officer and senior pilot's cabin weren't imminent.

_What the hell was Adama thinking?_ I wondered, taking another corner and only barely managing to keep my footing. I was too pissed to ask myself the same question. Probably just as well, given that all this running was giving me flashbacks I really didn't want to relive just then.

* * *

_**Two Years Ago...**_

_**Level Two Checkpoint**_

_**UN Secure Facility Alpha**_

_**Nellis Air Base, Nevada**_

_**00:16 Hours GMT**_

_**Four Hundred Feet beneath the surface.**_

_I knew the Worst Case Scenario had started as soon as I stepped out of the elevator. The two guards that normally manned the desk there were laid out, both unmoving and looking decidedly worse for wear. I didn't hesitate to kneel beside each and check for vitals, not really knowing what I was doing. _

_Seeing they were both breathing, if badly bruised, I made a quick inventory of their kits. Both were missing their sidearms and one radio was gone. Wonderful. Not only was our 'house guest' running around armed, she was likely listening in right then._

_Grabbing the remaining radio, I took the chance and keyed it to the Red frequency. "_Control, _this is _BabelHouse Guest_ is at liberty. Repeat: _House Guest_ is at liberty."_

"_Copy that, _Babel_," a vague voice on the other end replied. "Location?"_

"_Level Two Checkpoint. Be alert we have two down, non-terminal, and both missing weapons. No sign of _House Guest _so proceed with lockdown of facility."_

"_Copy that, _Babel_. Lockdown in progress." Alarms began sounding and the soft lighting overhead started flashing gently. I was privately glad she'd taken both weapons with her; I had had little training with guns and generally despised having to handle them. _

_Rather than wait by the unconscious guards like any thinking person would, I headed down the hallway to my right. The checkpoint, really just a continuous desk that sat next to the elevator door and could view all approaches up and down the T-junction there, didn't make me feel especially safe. _

_I didn't have an immediate goal in mind. I just figured the elevator would the most likely objective of the now-fugitive _House Guest_, and I did not wish to get into the middle of a firefight. Best if I put distance between myself and there, find an unoccupied office and get some much-needed sleep._

_At least that was the plan. I'd momentarily remembered why we'd been keeping her in this wing since getting the all clear from Quarantine. The top brass, Rice included, had wanted to keep her down here until they could figure out what to actually do with her. It made sense to keep her near__Medical, as she'd been comatose since landing. _

_Not that anyone was asking me, but I was as much at a loss as the rest of them. Her incoherent muttering, calling someone named 'Lee', had given me a grasp of her language but nothing else. I'd made a little headway in translating the book we'd found in her flight suit, but between all the religious allegory mixed in with poetics, I couldn't tell it was an oral history or just someone's version of it. _

_Well, that was all rendered moot now. Curiosity overcame good sense and I made my way to the room she'd been placed in. Since she was the only 'patient' presently in residence on this level, it made sense the one door that was cracked open would be hers. Nudging it open, I could make out a body on the floor, half-covered with the bed sheets. A pair of bare legs stuck out from under them, leading me to approach cautiously. Lifting the sheets ever so carefully, I relaxed at the sight of a familiar pair of scrubs._

_The scenario was beginning to unfold at this point. Our _House Guest_ must have finally awakened, maybe right when the resident nurse was doing running the usual checks on her vitals. Because no one thought to keep her in restraints, the _House Guest_ apparently surprised the poor girl and knocked her cold._

_I keyed the radio again. "_Control, Babel"

"Control_. Go ahead."_

"_Amend casualties to three down, non-terminal."_

"_Three down, roger that." _

"_Looks like she cold-cocked the resident down here and stole some of her uniform. Advise IDs be checked against file photos."_

_Understood. Be advised, Lockdown is completed and a sweeper and ALS teams en route."_

"_Non-terminal engagement, right?"_

"_Affirmative."_

"_Roger that. I'll keep my head down. _Babel_ clear." Setting the radio on the bed, I wondered if it would be advisable try making the unfortunate woman more comfortable, at least until the paramedics arrived. _House Guest_ may have looked…angelic…but the sheer amount of scar tissue and healed breaks her exams had turned up had even "Bull" Taylor keeping his distance. _

_Deciding it was better to leave her where she was, lest well-intentioned meddling worsen her injuries, I decided to heed the call of nature and moved to the room's small head in the back. My business there didn't take that long thankfully. _

_Otherwise, I might have missed the dark shape behind the shower curtain immediately behind me. _

_For the third time that night, common sense went AWOL and I nudged the curtain aside. Whatever I expected – be it _House Guest_ cowering in the small stall or her crouched and ready to spring – it certainly wasn't a slightly tubby fellow with glasses who had been stripped to the waist and had__a hospital gown carelessly thrown over him. _

_I didn't have long to process this discovery or ponder its implications. The telltale 'click' of a weapon's safety being disengaged in the doorway reinforced this. _

"_Shit," I hissed, raising my hands and keeping them well away from anything. Swallowing hard and praying I had constructed enough of her language to be coherent, I stated **"I am going to stand up slowly and keep my hands in the air. Okay?"**_

_The silence behind me could have been a sign of either agreement or non-comprehension. Deciding to take it as the former, I did as stated, keeping my eyes fixed firmly ahead. When there was no further sound from the doorway, "**I said I am now going to turn around slowly."**_

_Doing so, I found myself staring down the barrel of a guard's sidearm, its sights fixed firmly on my head. Behind it, I could make out the youthful features of our _House Guest_, looking remarkably small and fragile in her oversized Nurse's tunic. It didn't help she was clearly four inches or so shorter barefoot, and so had to hold the weapon at an upward angle._

_Her eyes however told a completely different story you'd have suicidal to ignore._

_We stood that way for a few second or minutes, just staring at one another. I noted how she held herself completely relaxed and her arm perfectly still, as if holding and aiming weapons was something she did daily; for all we knew it was. It fell to me to break the spell, if only so to avoid being shot when the sweeper team arrived. **"Do you understand me?"** A single, small nod was my only answer._ **"Okay. There are more guards arriving…"**

_She cut me off by grabbing my collar and hauling me roughly ahead of her. It wasn't difficult to figure out her plan right then. Ballsy as it was, using me as a human shield wasn't a very appealing prospect. Protest was impossible however as she just kept pushing me with surprising strength out of the room and into the hallway. Besides, I didn't trust my voice right then._

_Whatever hope I'd had to talk myself out of this flew away as the elevator issued its soft 'ping' and a half-dozen Specialists in full tactical gear emerged. We were already half way down the hallway by that point and a little hard to miss. The team's leader sighted us immediately and shouted "Remain still!" The other five Specialists either took cover or assumed position to fire; my heart flopped at the sight of five long-range tasers aiming directly at me._

House Guest _clearly didn't enjoy being yelled at. She let go of my collar, but strictly to re-adjust her grip and better position herself so nothing showed around me. **"Frak you, too!"** she called out._

"_Stay where you are!" I yelled with as much authority as I could muster, fear giving my voice an extra boost. **"Captain, this isn't necessary…"**_

_**"Shut up!"** _House Guest_ hissed, and then shouted over my shoulder, "**Get out of my frakking way!"** This perfectly reasonable demand unfortunately set off a three-way shouting match that quickly drowned us all out._

_**"Captain, they can't understand you…"**_

"_Step into the open now!"_

_**"Get them out of my way…"**_

"_She can't understand you, you idiot! _

_**"Frak you, toasters!"**_

"_You have to the count of five."_

_**"You shoot; I'll shoot back!"**_

"_She can't…aw, fuck this!" I reached around behind me desperately and grabbed the other radio _House Guest_ had taken. Finding it, I pulled it off her makeshift belt and held it out, twisting its settings crazily. This had the desired effect of issuing a whine of feedback that effectively shut everyone up; the Sweepers flinched as it echoed off in their earpieces, and _House Guest _pressed both fists to her ears. _

_None of them relinquished their weapons, which was probably for the best as it (hopefully) kept tensions manageable. Shaking my own head to clear it, I keyed it back to the correct frequency and said "_Control, Babel."

"_Reading you, _Babel_. Sit-rep."_

"_I'm looking at six T-90s aimed at my front, and two Glocks pressed into my back. Order the Sweepers to disengage immediately."_

"_Why?"_

"_Because I don't want to get shot, moron! _House Guest_ is scared shitless and is using me as a shield, and the Sweepers look ready to let loose without a firing order. So will you please order them the fuck off?"_

House Guest _chose that moment to poke me in the back, hissing **"What the frak are you saying?"**_

_My response was equally harsh. **"Just a second, Captain. I'm trying to save our asses."** Raising the radio again I demanded, "I don't see movement, guys."_

"_Stand by, _Babel_. Orders are going out now."_

"_Thanks the gods," I muttered as the Sweeper team all carefully stepped into clear view, holding their taser rifles at the ready but no longer pointed in our direction. "You guys cool?"_

"_We're to follow your orders, _Babel_," the team leader called out stiffly. _

"_Good. Stand at ease." After a second's debate, I glanced back over my shoulder. **"What do you want to do now, Captain?"**_

_**"Will they block my leaving?"**_

_**"By yourself, yes."** This had the expected result of another poke in the back with a Glock 9mm. _

_**"Good thing you're coming with me, huh?"** The gloating grin she directed at me was returned in kind, much to her consternation._

_**"Yes. A very good thing."** I spoke into the radio, "_Control_, be advised I'm bringing _House Guest_ to the surface."_

"_Is that wise?"_

"_She wants out, and at this point I don't blame her." Silence answered this, which was a blessing, as I needed it to collect my own thoughts. No, I couldn't blame _House Guest_ for wanting to get out of this claustrophobic if nicely carpeted tomb. However, I could also see her having an immediate problem with trusting any one present, myself included. No doubt, she was jumpy enough that she might end up accidentally shooting someone, or even herself, literally in the foot._

_A flash of inspiration hit. **"Captain?"**_

_**"How the frak do you know my rank?"**_

_**"It was printed on your dog-tags. Listen, what do they have to do to convince you you're free to leave here?"**_

_**"You mean other than let me shoot 'em all, an' you, in the kneecaps? You guys do have kneecaps, right?"**_

_**"Right,"** I confirmed dryly. **"Other than that?"** The look she had on her face made me start to wonder about the wisdom of my offer. _

* * *

_**Ascending from Level Two**_

_**00:46 Hours GMT**_

_Her demands turned out to be fairly simple: the Sweepers would throw their weapons down one hallway, then march down the opposite one, lying down once they reached the end of it. That, plus the fact she would keep both her Glocks pressed against my head, was apparently enough to convince her to enter the elevator with me. She was also sharp enough to keep me between herself and the Sweepers the whole time._

_Amazingly, the Sweepers were quick to comply with the directions _House Guest_ gave and which I carefully translated, word for word, not one of them offering so much as a peep in protest. _Control, _which was doubtlessly listening upstairs, likewise kept their mouths shut. I hoped this meant that they trusted me to keep _House Guest _calm and cooperative. _

_It was even odds of either that, or they were going to ambush us as soon as we stepped out of this elevator. The fact it was ascending slower than normal didn't encourage me much._

_Having _House Guest _constantly at my back with a pair of automatics was more than a little nerve-wracking. So I did what I normally do when nervous: I started talking. **"Can I just ask...?"** I started, struggling to phrase the question...diplomatically._

_**"What?"** she prompted after a second._

_**"What were you planning? I mean, pretending to be knocked out and half-dressed like an RN?"**_

_**"Oh, that. Neh, figured whoever found the guards napping would find me next and just assume I'd been knocked out by...well, myself."** She shrugged, not the least embarrassed._

_**"Let me guess. You figured if they fell for that, you'd be carted upstairs and you could make your escape from there?"**_

_**"Pretty much."** She sounded perfectly serious, which seriously had me wondering about her state of mind._

_**"You realize once we got to the surface...well, it's not like you could just fly away."**_

House Guest _snickered. **"Watch me."**_

_**"Your plane is scrap metal, Captain. "**_

_Another snicker. **"What, you guys dismantled it?"**_

_**"No. We haven't the foggiest idea how you managed to land it the way you did."**_

_**"Excuse me?"** I glanced back to see if her confusion was real or not. She was staring at me with hazel eyes that had gone hard as flint. The rest of her body language was screaming a different set of emotions. _

_**"Captain, do you remember how you...how you got here? "**_

_**"The name's 'Starbuck', friend."** she deflected. Another poke with a Glock warned me against further inquiry right then. Just as well; the elevator reached its destination._

_A soft ping and the doors slid open. "Ground floor, men's wear," I quipped quietly, raising my hands once again and letting _House GuestCaptain Starbuck_...push me forward._

* * *

**Battlestar **_**Olympus**_

**Cabin of Colonel Kara Thrace**

I rushed past the Marine sentries outside Kara's door, who only made half-hearted and purely verbal challenges to my approach. I pulled the door open, taking several seconds to realize (a) it was already cracked open, and (b) the cabin was completely empty of people, large or small.

It was the large ones I was most worried about right then.

I spun on the Marines, both of whom were hovering in the doorway. "Okay," I breathed. "Which way did they go?"

TBC...shortly.

Remember, FEEDBACK MORE FANFIC. See ya next week.


	17. Chapter 17

_(You're in luck, folks. You get a three-fer tonight!)_

* * *

**Part 17**

**Battlestar Olympus**

**Conference Room Delta**

**+20:55:57**

_**(Avery-Hunter)**_

Conference Room Delta was being used as the center for supply distribution by virtue of being the only one physically large enough to handle the volume of staff and data involved. The room had been designed with diplomatic functions and coordinating fleet maneuvers in mind, hence an abundance of data-ports, workstations, and space for pacing. While the room wasn't filled to capacity physically, the energy in play was so thick it could almost be tasted.

To this point, I hadn't fully appreciated the sheer scale of this operation. Intellectually, it wasn't hard to fathom; 40,000 aboard 30 ships sounded easy enough. The practical aspects of it, however, were enough to make me wish I had never taken a commission; organizing shuttle flights from the two EU container ships was one thing, coordinating at least three dozen of them at once was another. Add to that the natural language barrier and how almost every Colonial ship was in desperate need of assistance, it was nothing short of a logistical nightmare.

Not that my crew wasn't up to the task, thank God. It helped that the Colonials, rag-tag appearances to the contrary, were quick to get themselves organized and willing to assist on their end. Having Major Agathon on board was equally a godsend as he could direct which shipments went where.

If there was anything I had misgivings about, it was our being dependent upon the EU crews to communicate effectively with the Colonial populace. Beyond Secretary Richards, Admiral Rice, Lieutenant Mahn, Callisto, and myself there were no more than a dozen other personnel aboard either _Olympus _or _Asgard_who could speak enough Greek to serve as translators. The majority of them were in Con-Delta with Agathon and myself right then.

Of course, probably our single best resource was presently under lock-and-key in her cabin a few decks down. As well she should be.

If Richards and Rice hadn't ordered her secreted away, _I_ sure as hell would have. There was no way to keep knowledge of Starbuck's continued existence from her people forever; but given the reported religious bent of many of the Colonials had, none of us were willing to chance her getting martyred in the name of Artemis or whoever.

A Petty Officer handed me an updated manifest for the containership _Kalaallit. _I didn't know whether to be relieved or worried that it was reporting it had moved out two-thirds of its inventory. Her fellow, the _Elsinore, _was reporting only half-empty. Either things were going smoother than we could hope for, or more likely stuff was being snatched and funneled into the black market.

I handed the manifest to Agathon for his input. Just then, Callisto's voice came over the comms. _"Pass the word: Secretary Richards, please contact the flight deck." _I'd practically thrown Richards out of Con-Delta an hour ago as his hummingbird routine was getting oneveryone's nerves. It had been helpful when we were setting up, having him hover and dash all around, but damned if it didn't get annoying fast.

Agathon asked, **"What was that? I think I heard Secretary Richards...?"**

"**The XO was calling for him from the flight deck. Probably just a translation issue." **I shook my head and hoped it wasn't anything more than that.

The next fifteen or so minutes were spent like the many hours before: updates on shipments of food packs and sundries, confirmations of receipt and co-ordination of upcoming runs. It wasn't glamorous or exciting, but at least it was steady.

The monotony was broken by Benjamin Richards all but screaming over the PA. _"Pass the word. Lieutenant-Commander Callisto or Lieutenant Mahn, contact the CIC immediately!" _

Everyone momentarily paused at this most uncharacteristic outburst from the Secretary, Agathon included. He might not have understood a word of it, but I could see he sensed what we all did. **"That sounds pretty bad," **was all he said.

I nodded and went to the nearest wall-phone, debating who to call in CIC to find out what was happening aboard my ship. Paging the Comms Desk, I was gratified when the Specialist on duty picked up immediately. "This is Commodore Avery-Hunter. What's happening up there?"

"_Sir, the Secretary of State just sprinted out of here after speaking with Lieutenant Mahn."_

"About what?"

"_I'm...not certain, Sir. Prior to that he was in communication with _Galactica_ Actual and became...agitated."_

"Agitated?" I echoed, waving Agathon over to join me.

"_Extremely so, Sir. I wasn't monitoring the call directly..."_

"Thank you, Specialist. Avery-Hunter clear." Hanging up the phone, I turned to Agathon. **"The Secretary had a conversation with Admiral Adama that left him quote 'extremely agitated', unquote. Any idea as to the subject?"**

"**Honestly, no," **he shrugged. **"But at a guess? Something to do with Starbuck."**

That was a definite possibility, and one I didn't like the implications of. Picking up the wall phone again, I keyed it for general address and called "Pass the word. Lieutenant Mahn, contact the Commodore in Con-Delta ASAP." I shifted slightly so both Agathon and I could listen in.

"_Lieutenant Mahn reporting, Sir."_

"**Lieutenant, I have Major Agathon listening in. Please answer in Colonial. Understood?"**

"_**Understood, Sir."**_

"**I understand you just spoke with Secretary Richards, correct?"**

"_**Aye, Sir."**_

"**What was the gist of that conversation?"**

"_**The Secretary was directing the XO and myself to relocate to Conference Blue with the children..."**_

"**Wait. Children, plural?"**

"_**Yes, Sir. I have Aurora and the Representative's children here with me."**_

I was getting more and more confused by the second with this. Agathon didn't seem too bothered however as he sipped from the mug in his hand. **"What Representative? Someone from the Quorum?"**

"_**Yes, Sir. Colonel Thrace ordered myself and the XO to leave her cabin while she...spoke...with him."**_

"**Which one? I mean, which Representative?"**

"**Caprica, Sir."**

I jumped back as Agathon spat out a mouthful of tepid coffee and began coughing hard. A few of the Specialists glanced over, only to look away quickly as I started vigorously thumping the Colonial officer between his broad shoulders. **"Thank you, Lieutenant. Remain where you are and notify me if you need assistance. Avery-Hunter clear."**

I hung the phone back up and gave Agathon one last smack on the back. **"Feel better?"**

"**Yeah. Yeah, thanks."**

"**Okay. Who is the Caprican Representative and why is the Secretary of State suddenly on the warpath?"** I seriously doubted I would like the answer.

I was right, of course.

* * *

TBC...immediately


	18. Chapter 18

**Part 18**

**Battlestar **_**Olympus**_

**+21:02:00 **

_**(Apollo)**_

"The first time...we'd just jumped into the Ionian Nebula. Baltar's trial had just finished and...and I..."

_I do not want to hear about that,_ she told me.

"Okay. Um, well, as soon as we'd completed the jump something happens to the lights. Seems there was a Fleet-wide power failure and we were all drifting there. I didn't immediately know about this because I was wandering around D Deck, figuring I'd start packing my quarters..."

"What? You know I'd resigned my commission. What was going to keep me hanging around _Galactica _for? Shut up.

"Anyway, the lights go out, we've got a power failure. I thought, 'No problem'. It takes a couple of minutes and they would get the lights back on. Problem solved, right?

"Then suddenly Condition One sounds. Four Basestars jumped right in front of us at barely 50,000 mentras. Any closer and they'd have been sitting on us...yeah, I know. Even for the toasters it seems too crazy, doesn't it?

"Condition One sounds and I'm standing there, damn near getting run over by Marine Squad Three and half the Ops Crew. I...I just stood there and watched them get to their stations and actually had to think about what I should do.

"Didn't take me long to come a decision. I got to my cabin a few minutes after and pulled my flight gear together, then hightailed it to the flight deck. Everything is running on automatic by then and Tyrol is putting every bird we've got into the tubes. All the nuggets as well, including Anders.

"Hey, he volunteered. I had nothing to do with it.

"Okay, so all the pilot and nuggets we've got are in their birds and the birds are in the tubes. I grab mine; nobody so much as blinks. Probably didn't even realize who I was right then. They load me and I'm off.

"Don't give me that look. Yeah, _that_ look. My wingman wasn't there, but damm it , the toasters were on top of us. What was I supposed to do?"

She didn't have an answer to this. Nothing verbal anyway.

"I'm in the air not one minute and I get a...a blip on DRADIS. A contact at my 10 o'clock that appeared and disappeared. I informed _Galactica_ and peeled off to intercept. Except...there wasn't anything to intercept except that it keeps dropping on and off DRADIS.

"Naturally I'm thinking at that point its some new bird the toasters were trying out. Well, what was I supposed to think? And no, I wasn't trying to get myself killed. Give me some credit here.

"So I'm there on my own in nebula cloud, my eyes on everywhere except what's happening overhead. Easy target, right? Except the Raiders aren't moving anywhere near my location. Sounds crazy...but then...

"Well, my bogey popped back up. Flew right over my right wing, in fact, and out of sight. Sound familiar?

"The bogey's out of sight for another ten seconds, visual and DRADIS coming up blank...and then she pulls up on my left wing from behind, cool as you please...

"Yes, s_he_. _She _formed up on my left and _she _turned to look right at me. Want to know what _she_ said?

"'Hi, Lee.' That was it, at least until _'she' _got a good look at my face. Then...then _she_ laughed and said 'Don't freak out. It really is me.'

"After that _she_ said 'It's going to be okay. I've been to Earth. I know where it is. And I'm going to take us there.' Just like I said...

"_She_...it..._she_ sounded just like you. I swear to Zeus it was _you_. Your laugh, your flying...gods, that's what got me...

"_She_ just grinned at me then wheeled around, weapons free, and dove straight into the Raiders. I could just barely keep up with her, even on afterburners.

"Then it got...weird...okay, weird_er_. You..._she_...didn't actually seem to shoot down a single Raider. I didn't see _her_ Viper fire a single shot. But damn near every Raider she passed just...blew up...I shot a good number of them trying to keep up, but _she_ was racking up kills faster than I'd ever seen.

"And before you ask, no, she didn't say anything else. I kept calling her and calling her over the comms. Called her over and over, by name, on open channel.

"Yeah, stupid right? Crazy even? As crazy making a run right at a Basestar, which was exactly what _she_...I...what _we_ did. Well, _she_ did and I...I followed her because I couldn't think what else to do. We shot it to pieces somehow and then..."

WHACK!

My cheek stun like fire as I took the blow, but caught her hand before she could follow up.

"That is your one free poke. You even _try_ to slap me again; I swear I will lay you out. Got it?"

She got it; her damned irresistible eyes told me as much.

"We shot down the forward Basestar. I have _no_ frakking idea how we did, but it blew like fireworks factory ready for Colonial Day. But when the smoke cleared you..._she_...was gone.

"I think I lost it right then. Don't remember much beyond flying through the wreckage field and screaming for you over the comms. If I killed any more toasters, I don't remember. Didn't even realize I'd hit empty until my engines died out and left me drifting there. If I weren't also running short on oxygen, I might have even tried to punch out and sort through the wreckage by hand.

"Don't even try it, _Colonel_ Thrace. I _will _hit back this time. Clear?"

She nodded, clearly too pissed with me to speak.

"Anyway, the battle was over by then. The Cylons had jumped away. Racetrack came and towed me back to the _Galactica_. You can imagine the looks I was getting at that point, right? I'm surprised Cottle wasn't there to sedate me as soon as I stepped out of my bird. Dad...the Admiral wasn't anywhere near there...

"I was escorted very politely back to my old cabin. No idea what anyone was thinking right then because I sure as shit wasn't thinking. Wasn't really paying attention either. The Marines had to practically carry me back to the cabin and lock me inside.

"At that point it was just...just sinking in...what I saw, what I did...what I'd been saying...and all I could do was laugh about it for a while. You know, the kind of laugh that gets you put into restraints in a padded room somewhere?

"Except...except that's when _she_ appeared to me again.

"_She _just appeared, standing across the room from me. It was..._she _looked like you did...voice, stance, everything...Gods, she even smelled like you...

"What? You think after all that I'd be able to keep away from you..._her..._?"

I had to take a breath. This was why I never talked about this, never thought about it, for damned near two years.

"You..._she_...was still in her flight suit. No helmet, though, and her hair looked like she'd just cut it with a bayonet. _She_ was there and all I could think about...all I could focus on...what how damned _clean_ her flight suit was. It looked like it had just been issued by the QG and made of solid gold. I mean it was perfect..._she_ was perfect...

"If you think I'm crazy just say so. Like I said, _I_ think I'm crazy..."

_I don't think you're crazy,_ she tells me. And her eyes tell me she means it. I actually laugh at that.

"Yeah, well, you're probably the only one. I'm sure Dad...never mind.

"I'm in my cabin and _she_ appears out of nowhere. So I'm standing there, watching as _she _just..._she_ says the exact same lines as _she_ did in her Viper as _she's_ walking towards me.

"'Hi, Lee. It's going to be okay. I've been to Earth. I know where it is. And I'm going to take us there.'

"I wasn't listening, of course. The only thing on my mind was...reaching out...and...holding you...

"Next thing I know, someone's knocking on the door. And I'm not standing anymore. I'm sitting on my sofa, as if I'd been asleep all that time.

"I know, I know. Maybe it was all a dream. Maybe I cracked when I went on the witness stand and called everyone out on everything we've done wrong since day one...

"Except I _did_ get in my Viper and I _did_ engage the Cylons. The Chief had no idea how I managed to do that as my on-boards barely worked, which maybe explained why DRADIS kept blinking on me. My gun camera wasn't even turned on, so I couldn't prove I saw anything.

"All the rest of the air wing saw was me making what looked like a suicide run against a Basestar, blow it to Tartarus somehow, then go tear-assing through the wreckage screaming for you to come back.

"After that? Maybe it was some mind-frak I pulled on myself. Except _she_...no, you...left something behind in my cabin."

I undo my collar and pull out the chain I wear, making sure she sees the silver ring that hung there.

"I never saw you after that. I've told anyone who asked what I saw and what I experienced...but I haven't told anyone about _this_. I...wouldn't know what to say..."

She hadn't said anything since I showed her the ring, her eyes fixed upon it as she unconsciously rubbed her unadorned thumb. I could practically hear the one thought certain to be bouncing around in her head: _I wondered what that was._

I carefully undid the chain from around my neck and freed the ring from it. She didn't resist as I gently took her hand in my own, but I could feel her trembling as I slipped the ring back onto her thumb. "I don't care if it was you or something else. I don't care..." My throat closed in spite of myself and all I could do was press a kiss to that digit and hold it to my cheek, head bowed and too afraid to look up lest she disappear on me again.

When she pulled her hand free after a few seconds, it was all I could do not to break down right there. She tilted my chin so I would see her before me, whole and real.

Her hands in mine, she waited until I'd calmed enough to listen to her.

It was a short wait.

* * *

TBC...at once!


	19. Chapter 19

**Part 19**

**Battlestar **_**Olympus**_

**+21:30:01 **

_**(Starbuck)**_

"The first time I woke up...no. No. I have to go further back, so you'll understand everything.

"It started after the Temple of Five. Remember that? How the nova formed the 'Eye'? Well, I'd seen it before. I'd drawn it, painted it, over and frakking over my whole life. It's always been there, in my mind...on my frakin' wall in Delphi...on the floor in the Remembrance Hall...

"Crazy, huh? Never would have thought of it myself, at least not until Helo dug out some photos of my apartment after the star cluster went nova. I mean, it was always there in front of me, and I couldn't see it.

"Okay, so a week before we hit that gas giant, I start having...dreams. The sort where you normally change the sheets afterwards. You can ask Hot Dog what I was like then. Poor kid looked like he couldn't figure if he should get turned on or run away.

"Get that look off your face, Apollo. It wasn't you. And no, it wasn't Sam either. I wish to the Gods it was either of you that had me...

"Three guesses who it was, and the first two don't count if the name in question doesn't belong to a toaster.

"Yeah, _him. _The same obsessed mother-frakker who played house with me on New Caprica. Don't even bother asking about _that_ right now, okay? I'm feeling...generous here, so don't push it, okay?"

He nods in agreement. Except I know he'll ask later, and then I'll confess all. Gods know how I keep myself from trembling as my guts go cold.

"It was him, except it wasn't...not...not really. Not the Leoben we airlocked or who had me locked away. I don't even think he was a toaster at all.

"Let me back up again. The dreams...well, one recurring dream. I'm back in my shithole in Delphi, painting. Except I'm not working on a canvas. I'm throwing paint on the wall by the stairs. You remember where I copied _Paracellis_ by Katris, right? Yeah, well, right after...after Zak, I painted something next to it. A mandela: blue center, red ring, yellow ring. Sound familiar?"

I can see it does. I tug his hands so he'll meet my eyes.

"I painted it in First Term when I was, I maybe six or seven. I painted it on my wall seventeen years later. I had no frakking clue why or what prompted it each time. No frakking clue, Lee. It was...a compulsion. A direction from something I couldn't understand or even notice.

"But in the dream, I'm throwing paint over it, covering it completely. Out of sight, out of mind, right? Except...except it wasn't.

"I'm still trying to hide it when...when _he_ comes up behind me. He wraps his arms around me, kisses me right behind my ear...and yes, he hit _that_ spot. Sure as hell got my attention, not to mention ruined my panties each time.

"Quit grinning. It's not what you think...or maybe it is. Never did figure out how to short-circuit that clockwork brain of yours.

"Is that a smile I see? Good. 'Cause I'm not sure how you'll take what's next.

"He's kissing me, and I'm...he presses me to the wall and I feel him on my ass. I spin and I...I kiss him. I kiss him and it's like I've never wanted anything more."

He tries to jerk away, but I hold fast. I'm not letting him go. Not like this. Certainly not over this.

"He's kissing me and caressing me and it's like I'm drowning in him. He pulls open my shirt and I can't wait to get his hands on the rest of me. He's all over every frakking inch of me and we're down on the floor and I'm naked and he's...not. He doesn't take anything off, doesn't touch me where I need to be. I'm wet and ready and all he does is run his fingers all over me...except where I want him to.

"And here's the kicker, so feel free to laugh. We're on the floor, right, _not_ humping away like dogs in heat. I'm naked, he's not, I'm ready and he's not doing his manly duty. I look up at the wall and guess what I see?

"I see the mandala _I_ painted just...just _push_...through all the paint _I_ just _threw_ all over it. It uncovers itself and is looking right down on me, Lee.

"And then I'd wake up. Every time. And it's not like I'm wet anymore. You'd think it by how much I was sweating, but I swear to the Gods, I was bone dry every time. Guess that explains why I was such a prize bitch and a half towards the end, huh?"

He doesn't say anything. His eyes tell me how _un_funny the joke is and how he'll react if I try to make light of it again. Thank you, but no. I don't want Aurora to wonder why her momma got a black eye from her...well, later for that.

"I went to see an oracle down in Dogsville a couple days before...before we...before I flew into that storm. She knew about Leoben, and about my mother. She recited everything Leoben said, chapter and verse. Except that's what it was this time. My life, chapter by frakking chapter, like it was written by Athena herself as poetry. It was one cycle of pain and teaching and I didn't understand it...not at first. I...I confused the message with the messenger. Then again, Momma was a pretty miserable excuse of a parent, never mind a teacher.

"This is gonna get...weird now, Lee. If you want to bail?"

He tightens his grip on my fingers, presumably thinking he has to keep me tethered to the metaphorical ground. I know different; its me who is holding on to him, keeping him from flying off into this God's decreed madness that's take over our lives.

"That day in the clouds, just the two of us, remember? You managed to talk me out from under my bird and back into the cockpit. Want to know what spooked me so bad that day? It wasn't the raider I'd been chasing for two days. And yes, there was a raider, or at least something looking like one.

"Well, what spooked me was that I saw a girl sitting in my seat. It was me, split lip and all, staring up at me. Can you imagine how that screwed me up?

"Don't! Don't you dare try to apologize about talking me out of that. That's why you were there that day. That's what had to happen, Lee.

"Okay, okay. Forget that part. We'll argue about that later."

_Until the day we die, _I promised silently. Hey, the girls weren't going to keep us distracted forever.

"When I flew down into the storm...it wasn't just a storm. It was the mandala again. The phantom raider was just bait...or it was there to make sure I didn't chicken out. Either way it worked.

"Once I was in there, something hit my bird. Hard enough to knock me completely out of it. But when I come to...I'm back in Delphi.

"It's Summertide when I wake up. I know because I'm crashed out on my couch and that dj we used to parody off of Public Access, what was his name? Brendon Pitts or something? Well, he's saying how hot it's going to be and how we should head down to the beach and it's all I can do to hit the snooze button and shut him up. For once in my life, I'm _not_ hung over when I wake up like that. Not a word, okay?

"Okay, so I've shut the radio up and suddenly I'm not alone. I...it's Leoben again. Except he's not making a move to touch me, except to hand me a sweater because it suddenly got as cold as the Aerleron poles.

"In not so many words, he tells me its time for me to get my act together and that the mand**a**la is the key. He also reminds me _I_ painted the damned thing, not him. You can imagine I don't take this very well and I throw a few things. Frakker doesn't even flinch when I do.

"Instead, he takes me to see the last time I saw my mother. Bitch couldn't let it go, all her anger and shit. She couldn't even be happy I'd gotten my wings and commission. Practically chased me out...no. No, _I_ ran out when she admitted she had cancer. I couldn't...wouldn't give her any sympathy. I mean I tried, but she didn't want it and I'd just had it at that point. Told her I'd never come back and I just ran.

"Five months later, she died. It was a couple days before anyone found her. A few weeks more before anyone told me, like I gave shit at that point.

"But, standing there with Leoben...I saw it differently. I saw her differently. For the first time in my whole damned life she wasn't some ogre Tartarus spat out to ruin everything for me.

"Then it was five months later. Momma was laid out on her bed, breathing her last. I actually sat down with her, looked at the scrapbook she'd been keeping of me. I felt...felt free finally. She told me I could do what needed to be done. She knew I would, because I was her daughter.

"God's, Lee. She was so...peaceful...when she passed over. All her pain, all her anger **was** gone. And that's when I got the message, that death wasn't a painful thing. It was peace and should be welcomed.

"Oh, geez, Lee. Quit looking at me like that. No, I'm not even vaguely contemplating suicide. Haven't been since I landed on this rock. But neither am I going to run away from death whenever it comes for me. It's that simple, Lee. Take it or leave it.

"Oh, and Leoben? He admitted, kinda, that he actually wasn't. Or at least not the one I knew. He was some kind of guide for me, to help me cross to the next part of the path. Where he came from or what his real name was I, I just didn't think to ask.

"So then I'mback up in my bird and I'm practically on the Hard Deck. I know you were somewhere behind me and it wasn't like I could have explained all this to you right then. I went on the comms and you remember what I...asked you to do?"

_Let you go,_ he acknowledges, looking and sounding only slightly less reluctant this time than in the past.

"Which is what you did. And I...my Viper...hit the Hard Deck and blew up.

"Except...I was apparently already gone by then. I know because the next time I was aware of anything, well, I doubt Elysian Fields would look anything like a hospital room.

"That's where I woke up. Or came to or whatever. Naturally, I thought I was back in a Farm on the Colonies, or some Cylon basestar, although this would have been the first one I'd seen one where they had carpets on the floor.

"Anyway, I'm running on pure instinct right then. I knock the guy who comes in to check my readings, and then I managed to ambush the pair of idiots who were napping at the front desk. Seems they were keeping me in some underground facility to make sure I wasn't contagious or anything.

"Yeah, I'd landed on Earth…somehow. You've seen the vid footage and all the pictures, right? Still can't believe that's _me_ they're hauling out of that wreck.

"I didn't figure it out until I grabbed myself a hostage and bargained my way up to the surface. That's when I saw the Twelve in the sky. You can just imagine what kind of a basket case I turned into right then when Ben…Secretary Richards…named off all twelve to me."

He answered in the affirmative, the first real smile I'd seen from him hitting me hard enough that I completely forgot what I was going to say next.

"Um…well, that's it," I answered lamely, knowing that most definitely was 'it'.

Certainly not between the two of us. But all that was for later.

Feeling my ring…our ring…back on my thumb was strange. I needed something else to focus on before I broke down – _again_ – and said something to frak everything up.

"Let's go…let's go collect the girls," I suggested, suddenly wanting to get out of this storage locker I'd shut us into an hour ago. What the frak had I been thinking, being in a confined space with Lee Adama? Besides the obvious, that is.

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure Apollo was following me, and couldn't resist a quick glance downwards. Good to know I wasn't the onlyone _a__ffected_ by our...proximity.

* * *

TBC…sometime soon.

**De author seez: **_the last three chapters just flew off my keyboard, partly in anticipation of the Season Premier this Friday. Never fear, however: there's still plenty more complications and questions to come._

_A huge thanks to Cranberry Jei for a clever little plot point in Chapter 18. And if you're wondering, the scene in Lee's cabin was actually filmed and (I suspect) was originally supposed to be the final scene in "Crossroads" part 2. You can catch it on the Season Three DVD collection._

_See you in a few days._


	20. Chapter 20

_(Change of pace time. We're going to be leaving the pilots alone and explore around the Fleet a bit. As always, keep the reviews and feedback coming.)_**Part 20**

* * *

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

"**Dogsville" Civilian Settlement**

**+12:45:45 **

_**(Richards)**_

After seven hours aboard _Galactica_, I was more than ready to get back to _Olympus_. Finding myself down in the bowels of our cousin's lead ship stripped any illusions I had about just how desperate their circumstances were. Kara had described Dogsville to us in the past, but it had been too much of a stretch to try envisioning a veritable shantytown inside a military vessel like _Galactica_.

But here they were, at least two hundred or more crammed into a storage hold like cargo. I had done refugee work prior to coming to Nellis, mainly Old Russia, and the whole scene reminded me of the old gulags the UN teams had been working on. The rest of the world had forgotten those hellholes when the Blight hit, many of them becoming self-sufficient towns unto themselves.

Dogsville wasn't much different. Just a hell of lot smellier. I noted the number of EU staff and crew working their way through crowds, most wearing Red Cross armbands and taking notes of some kind. A long table had been set up on the far wall where people were lining up for food and drink.

I was relieved they were getting the Ration Bars as opposed to the full MREs; clearly, the EU crews had actually listened to the recommendations Rice and I had laid out when they first arrived. While no one we'd encountered thus far was suffering any severe nutrition issues, there was always the risk of _creating_ some by overloading their digestive tracts.

If memory served, many of these people were Sagittarians, which meant we would have to be careful when it came to medical care. Even with their constant intake of the algae-organisms, there were some scattered reports of scurvy and the like, though it looked like it was a mild issue if anything.

While I had the utmost faith in Avery-Hunter's ability to construct and oversee a full supply mission, I also had the burning need to get off this bucket and back to familiar territory. Never mind the Secretary General was probably tearing her hair out at the liberties I'd taken so far. Her few communiqués had been...restrained in their content, which told me plenty all by itself.

Bernice Winterhill didn't do 'restrained' very well. Rarely at all, in fact, which often left me to wonder how the hell she'd managed to stay where she was for so the last nine years.

The Secretary General's temper was far from my mind right then. All I wanted to do right then was find someone in charge down here so I at least had an excuse to wander around here. I listened with half an ear to the questions being asked by the EU crews, not too surprised at requests for blood types and such. At least they were being polite about how little the Colonials could tell them.

I carefully picked my way over to the food line, giving people I came near a smile and a nod, which was always returned. I could only hope it was because they were feeling friendly and not because I had a Marine in ballistic armor at my back. Everyone seemed calm and happy for the moment, so I took this as a good sign.

Finding my way through the crowd, I zeroed in on the first Colonial Officer present. She was a short, dark-skinned woman I remembered seeing in the CIC, right before I'd sat before the Quorum and the Colonial press. "Captain?"

She spun to look at me, looking momentarily harried and perhaps even to yell a bit, only to calm after a second. I was quietly relieved at that; this one looked like a regular spitfire. "Mr. Secretary," she replied formally, straightening herself.

I gave her a careless wave. "Please stand at ease, Captain. I'm just wandering around here." After another quick look around the hold, I added "I trust everything's going smoothly for you here?"

"As well as can be hoped for, Sir. Your people have been very professional and patient with us."

"They aren't 'my people', Captain. They're contractors for a national-corporate entity the UN deals with." The relations between Zurich and Brussels were a bit more complicated than that, but she didn't need to know that right then. It was unlikely my testimony and Q-and-A's with press had given anyone even half an idea what a dysfunctional mess Earth still was politically and socially.

"They aren't being rude or anything to all of you?" I asked.

"Not at all. Just the opposite."

"I'd appreciate it if you kept half-an-ear on them…"

"Sir?"

"Sorry. Terran slang. I mean just…just listen to their questions and conduct. Don't hesitate to contact Admiral Rice or myself if you feel they're getting too...personal."

"Not a problem, Sir." I had no doubt this one would take down names and knock heads if she even suspected something was up. Then again, my judgment when it came to pretty ladies was a tad suspect.

As I turned to leave, my eyes fell upon what looked like a canvas tent nestled far into the back. This seemed remarkably out of place given everyone else there was apparently having to make do with fabric partitions and folding cots. I tapped the officer on the shoulder and nodded towards it. "Captain, what's that? A temple?"

The officer had to go on tiptoes to see over the huddled masses. She shook her head. "No, Sir. It's the home of a local Oracle."

"A priestess?"

"No, Sir. A...I guess you could call her a seer. Someone who the Lords can speak through or who interprets signs." She gave me a guarded look. "They're _very_ respected here..."

"I'm sure," I assured her sincerely. "I've met a few in my day." I also privately vowed to knock my 'sister' Amy Montag upside the head for not warning directly me I'd run into one of her fellows up here. Gods, but I hated it when she got vague and prophetical when we talked.

Making my way over to the tent via the same indirect route I'd come in through, mainly because it afforded precious time to formulate what I might say to whoever was inside. Provided there _was_ someone inside.

Marshalling my courage, I closed the distance to its entrance. A soft voice called out, cutting through the din before I could call out a greeting or request of any sort.

"Please come in."

"Stay out here," I ordered my guard, who appeared disinclined to follow anyway. Not knowing what to expect, I didn't take more than two steps inside.

Entering the tent was like stepping into a steambath of scented pot potpourri and unaired laundry. It was nearly enough to knock me off my feet, between the memories it invoked and the sheer sensory overload I experienced. It was nearly enough to send me back out when the Oracle herself steps into sight.

Like the rest of all this, she was not what I expected. A young woman, blond and kinda-sorta pretty, walking barefoot, bundled in hand-woven robes. The way she looked at me reminded of me all the times I'd found Amy high as kite, usually as a prelude to some babbled prophecy that only made sense in hindsight.

_Find the Ethor's maid among the dogs._ Amy's words from nine days ago, which interrupted my bitching over Kara's getting off-planet.

"I...uh..." My words, right then, left me utterly at a loss as to what to say to her.

She continued to stare at me. Through me, actually. Unable to hold her gaze, I looked around the tent to try to get a sense of her. Virtually no furniture beyond a couple of small tables and simple chairs. The rest of the available space was covered with throw rugs or some kind of cloth. There was a large bowl of clear water on one of the tables; the bowl itself appeared to be made of a light bronze material, the rim of which darkened in the indirect lighting that filtered in from outside, and darkened the water still more.

A blue center, ringed by red, then by yellow.

"I've seen that before," I muttered suddenly.

"A few others have," the Oracle stated calmly. I hoped she meant the image I was seeing and not the bowl itself; otherwise I wouldn't know what to make of her. Or all _this_, come to it.

"You know who I am and where I'm from, right?" She nodded serenely, which only got me more uptight. "What am I seeing in that bowl, then?"

"Water held in metal. Why? Do you see something more?" If her purpose had been to exhaust what little patience I had, she succeeded.

"I think you damned well know I do," I ground out, fists clenching instinctively.

"What is it then?"

"A…a mandala. What some might call a representation of all creation."

"And what do you call it?"

"Something I've seen twice before in recent years. Once in the aftermath of a storm in a desert, the second painted by…someone."

"Do you believe in Gods, Benjamin Richards?" she asked after a short silence.

"Well, Earth has an abundance of religions…"

She silenced me with another look, but didn't raise her voice. "Do _you_ believe?"

I gave a tired shrug. "I'm a Lay Wiccan. That more or less puts me in the same camp as a Reformed Gemmenese." Looking back at the bowl, the water had become just water again, and the bowl nothing but metal. I shook my head, suddenly more tired than I could remember.

"Does...Aurora exist in your world?"

Without taking my eyes from the bowl, I started rattling off half-remembered mythology. "The goddess of the dawn. Twin sister to Sol and elder sister of Luna. She petitioned Zeus to grant her mortal lover immortality, which he did but didn't give him eternal youth. The poor sod aged from infant to elder every day. Aurora ultimately turned him into a grasshopper." Looking up, I caught something flashing in her eyes. "You don't seem surprised I can equate religious factions between your world and mine."

She was back to her silent routine by then. "Did I happen to mention the first time I saw the mandala was at dawn two years ago?" This elicited no reaction. "Amy will just _love_ you," I muttered, turning to leave.

The Oracle's voice stopped me cold. "She was not alone, was she?"

"No. No she wasn't." I glanced back. "You knew?"

"Did she bring the icon with her?"

I knew there was no point in asking what she was referring to. "No. The only thing she carried with her was her sidearm and her book of scripture."

_That_ elicited an actual reaction. It wasn't much more than a small frown, but it was something. "Pilots don't take such books with them in flight."

"No?"

"It is considered an ill omen for them to do so," she stated. "It is feared it will tempt the Fates to claim them before their time."

"Really?"

"It has long been so."

"I get the sense the Fates needed no temptation with _her_, did they?" I faced her directly. "She won't set foot back on _Galactica._" The Oracle dipped her head in acknowledgment. "Is there a message I should take to her?"

"Would you believe if I did?"

"I saw an unprotected woman pulled from fire without being burnt, her plane nothing but wreckage yet landing with precision. I've seen a pattern in the sky repeated on canvas and now here in this tent. You call her 'Aurora', the name of the one she carried with her." I took a breath. "I've seen these things happen at a moment in history when my people are finally ready to receive them. Now I'm standing here, talking to the Ethor's maid who lives among the dogs, telling her these things and...and feeling like a prize idiot about it because I can't tell _you_ I really, honestly believe in the gods without admitting I've been a complete hypocrite for most of my life."

Confession my be good for the soul, but damned if didn't make one nauseous to boot. The Oracle flashed a small smile at me, likely amused.

"I have no message or seeing for her," she finally said. "Merely a reminding: she brings the dawn, but _calls_ the Sun. There is no one without the other."

Before I could ask what that meant, she turned and vanished back into the depths of her small tent. "Frak," was all I could mutter, turning and leaving as quickly as decorum would allow. Damned if I knew how I'd explain this one to Kara.


	21. Chapter 21

_Okay, buckle your seatbelts, folks. You've got four new chapters coming now. Author's notes at the end of part 24._**Part 21**

* * *

**Basestar **_**Nemesis**_

"**Little Delphi" Civilian Settlement**

**+14:51:30 **

_**(Athena)**_

I pried the panel granting access to the primary water exchange and filtering system free with a grunt. Four years of marriage and motherhood apparently had dulled my usually superior Cylon physique. That or two months on a second pregnancy was leaving me more winded than my first had.

I'd been in CIC most of the day, playing 'temporary' CO and helping coordinate with the Terrans, which amounted to little more than busy work that was really far less "busy" than actual "work". These people were nothing if not organized. So, when the request came for someone to assist with a bit of otherwise routine maintenance with the filtration systems, I jumped at it.

Technically, Kelly had a bit of seniority on me, but the crap he pulled right before Baltar's trial ensured he was never going to see Major. Just why the Old Man had ever let him out of hack, I'll never know. Plus, given the origin of the ship we were on, I was the logical choice to head 'downstairs'.

My goal right then was making sure the water didn't taste like week-old gym socks as it had that morning. So there I was, pulling and prying panels open and sweating hard from the exertion. Behind me were a gaggle of mechanics- and engineers-in-training already going through the piping and conduits I'd uncovered. Basestars, contrary to impressions left by the Raiders, had no organic components other than the Hybrid. This made crawling around inside its infrastructure merely uncomfortable, as opposed to both nauseating _and_ uncomfortable.

Small mercies aside, there always seemed to be something needing to be done or replaced throughout _Nemesis _since we'd found her. External appearances aside, the basestar was in even more ramshackle condition than _Galactica_, although few humans seemed to appreciate this small fact. The Chief did, which caught me for some reason, but given he was basically locked aboard the _Galactica_ until the end of time, it was left to myself, and Caprica to a lesser extent, to make sure things were running smoothly.

Not that I ever objected when he came aboard for a day or two; God knew I could have used a competent pair of hands right then. But I doubted even our getting to Earth would be enough to pull him out of the Bucket again, regardless of how many more miniatures of them both Cally popped out.

"Aw, frak n' Tartarus!" one of the mechanics cried out suddenly. I moved over to where the civvies clustered, hoping it was an easy fix for once.

To my surprise, what they pulled from some of the disused piping was a filth-encrusted pair of dress blues. They looked as if they had been stuffed in there for years, which in itself would have been worrisome. It would have meant Cylon infiltration of the Fleet was more extensive than we'd previously thought. My attention however was immediately fixed on the insignia on the jacket's collar:

A pair of much-tarnished and barely recognizable Admiral's stars.

"What the frak," I muttered, sounding unduly aggrieved. Snatching up the filthy material, I made a show of snapping it around, muttering darkly, "Somebody's idea of a joke..." Looking up at the civvies, I ordered, "Check out the rest of those pipes. See if there's a pair of boots to go with these." Then I strode off with as much authority as I could muster.

It was a cover for the fact I was in a not-so-mild panic at this discovery.

A call to _Galactica_ was definitely in order, though I was cursed if I knew what I would tell the Admiral.

**+15:01:16**

**Conference Alpha**

"_You're sure about this?"_ the Admiral asked for the umpteenth time.

"Yes, Sir," was my reply, unchanged for the umpteenth time. I had set the uniform on the conference table and spoke over a secured line. I had also ordered up Marine guards to bar any entry into the room while the Admiral and I spoke.

We had already gone over the circumstances behind this discovery. I had described it in detail for him as well, emphasizing how its near-rotted condition made tracking its owner all but impossible. The pants were little more than vaguely shaped rags, and the jacket was even worse. It had lost all but one button and the few threads still holding it together were nearly gone, as was the whole of its left sleeve. The right was no less tattered and decayed, its shoulder patch long gone.

In short, there was nothing to identify its previous owner – if indeed it had one – save for the rank insignia on what was left of the collar. I also noted how there was discoloration there as well that had nothing to do with mold or rot. Small stains that darkened the fabric.

"_Opinion?"_ he finally asked me.

"It's for real, Sir. Damned if I can figure out what it means, though."

"_Misdirection or disinformation, perhaps?"_

"I'd considered that, but we've had the _Nemesis_ for nearly a year now. I can't really see what they'd hope to accomplish with something like this." I frowned to myself. "Sir, what size jacket do you wear?"

"_50. I take it this uniform is a few sizes different?"_

"Hard to tell from its condition, but I'd hazard it is."

"_All right. Bag and secure the...item...for examination later. Compartmentalize this for the time being as well. Do you have confidence the civilians won't go talking outside of class?"_

"As much as I can, Sir. I made rather a production of taking the item and storming off. Hopefully, that will convince them there's nothing exceptional here."

The Admiral paused, and then asked, _"Still no sign of Commander Tigh?"_

"None, Sir. We may have to...presume the worst."

"_Gods, I don't want to think about that."_

"Neither do I, Sir. Especially not at this point, given where we are."

The Admiral heaved a sigh, and then added, _"I realize you're on your own over there, Captain. I'll see about getting some relief over to you soon."_

"It's actually okay, Admiral," I assured him. "The Terrans seem to have this all down like clockwork."

"_Still, make sure you don't overdo it. I'd rather not give Helo reason to mutiny on me."_

It was a silly joke between the three of us, and one that always made me smile. "No, Sir. We definitely don't want that."

"_I'm sending orders you're to be off-shift for the next six hours. Please make good use of that time, Captain. Adama clear."_

I returned the wall-phone to its cradle and contemplated the 'item' again. After so many years among my husband's people, I'd come to accept there were things beyond my ken and understanding. My one and only encounter with the Delphian Oracle still haunted me.

I wondered what she would make of this discovery, and as quickly decided I didn't _want_ to know. Finding Starbuck alive and well was omen enough.

The item was quickly stowed away in a simple plastic bagand taped shut. I resolved not to think any further of it, at least for the rest of the day. God knew I'd be busy enough with Hera for the next six hours.

TBC...


	22. Chapter 22

_(Original Character Alert! Let me know if you like him enough to keep him!)_

* * *

**Part 22**

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

**Pilot's Ready Room, Deck C**

**+08:10:03 **

_**(Turtle)**_

"The area is for military personnel only, Sir." The civilian I found standing in the otherwise empty Ready Room didn't look terribly impressed by my declaration.

I had finished my tour on CAP and was anxious to get below decks, if only to catch up on the latest gossip going 'round the Triad tables. Gods knew it had to be a better source of intel than anything coming from the Old Man or over the wireless.

The rumors were getting ridiculous by now; yes we'd found Earth, no we hadn't, we were talking to skin jobs, we weren't talking to anyone, they were human, they weren't human, et cetera. I had tuned it all out a while back and just concentrated on flying my bird until my CAP was finished.

Sadly, my hopes of finding anything out were dashed when I found the Ready Room empty...except for this guy who obviously shouldn't have been there. I shouldn't have been surprised that none of the rest of the squadron were there; the CAG had scrambled everyone and made it clear from the outset we were supposed to cover the entire fleet for the next day at least. I'd flown two shifts back to back, which, coupled with the fact my bird was starting to leak coolant, was the only reason I'd been sent back to the Barn. The Chief had taken one look at the reactor and fixtures and sent me on my way with a look that said, '_You're grounded_.'

Not that it was unwelcome, mind. I'd gotten my wings barely a year ago and was still feeling my way through being in the cockpit. Some downtime, particularly when ordered by an effective superior, was a welcome relief from twisting my guts up, afraid I'd punch the wrong button.

However, this did leave me at loose ends. No way was I searching out the XO or the Old Man for extra work; the CAG had already alerted CIC I was out of the air for a bit so they knew I was available. I was too keyed to think of getting some rack time, but even that that was preferable to sitting in what looked to be an empty room.

I was just about to leave the empty Ready Room when I found I wasn't alone any longer. A civilian whowas staring at the some of the pictures toward the back turned suddenly as I turned the corner. He zeroed in on me and stated**,** "No need to leave on our account."

My anger flared for a second as I stated my challenge. He merely gestured toward what I presumed was his Marine guard and said, "I've got one with me. Does that count?" He sounded earnest enough I wondered if he really thought that way. Neither of us could keep from chuckling after that. I didn't even get offended when he took a seat at the nearest table and waved me to join him.

The Marine cleared his throat in that threatening way Marines had. The civvie just glanced at him and shrugged. "What? I'm going to wander all over _Galactica_ until the President decides she's ready?"

"You work with the President?" I blurted. The civvie made some small, nondescript noises to this, which I took as the affirmative. "Can you tell me what the frak is going on out there?"

"You've been flying, right?" I nodded. "So you've seen _Olympus, _right?"

"That's what that...thing...is called." I wrinkled my nose. "They've got us flying at such a wide pattern you can't see much. Plus DRADIS is all screwy and..." I stopped right there. The CAG had been adamant about us not talking 'out of school' about _anything _we saw, heard, or even thought.

"Same as I heard," the civvie nodded, drumming his fingers on the table between us. "Can't tell you much, er...Ensign...?"

"Lieutenant Phippen, call sign Turtle."

The civvie looked embarrassed as he said "Sorry, Lieutenant. I'm not really up on your insignia. Anyway, I can't tell you much. The President and the Admiral are looking over a bunch of stuff that was brought over from the _Olympus, _telling me to get lost until they are finished." He sounded upset about this in particular. "What do you pilots do here when you aren't hunting Raiders?"

"The Chief's special brew and strip Triad."

"That's it?" He sounded surprised at this, even as he pulled what looked like a homemade deck from his inner pocket. "Care for a hand or five?"

I resettled myself in my chair. "What're we playing for?"

The civvie shrugged he started shuffling the deck. "Questions."

"Excuse me?"

"Well, I don't have any cubits and I'm not betting my pants for giggles. Plus we've got...visitors here now, so how about we play for the chance to ask 'em stuff?"

"You're kidding," I stuttered, wondering just who this guy was, even suggesting something like this. Trouble was, he had gotten me interested. "Can you guarantee that?" I asked as he started dealing out the first six-card hand.

Another shrug was my immediate answer. "Why not? I'm going to be seeing the President at some point. No reason I can't give some strong suggestions about what should be asked of 'em." He examined his hand blandly. "Picon House Rules? Winner's question goes in the pot, or they can ask the loser?"

"Um, fine. But..."

"Well you're off to a great start," the civvie sighed, laying out his hand. One pair and four orphans; the sort of hand you just don't recover from. I didn't know what to make of this guy or his manner. I even started to suspect he was deliberately throwing his hand just so I'd get the first bite.

"Okay, fine. Uh, should I write it down or what?"

"If you want. I've got a pretty good memory."

"I'll write it down."

"Fine," he nodded, retrieving the cards and conducting another shuffle while I wrote out my first query on my slip-pad. "Oh, by the way," he said as he extended his hand to me." My name is Richards."

"Nice to meet you," I replied distractedly and shaking his hand, working to keep my other one steady enough that my words would be legible. Satisfied with it, I folded it in half and put on the table between us as my new opponent dealt out another hand.

* * *

**+9:40:42**

I would never claim to be more than an amateur Triad player, always suffering my own share of bad hands and bad calls. But my opponent seemed to have made a career of being even worse than simply 'bad', as testified by the large pile of paper slips between us. He had won perhaps five hands out of the forty-plus we'd played, none of them through bluffing. The rest were all mine.

Rather than toss questions of his own in, he'd instead asked them of me. This would have seemed odder if the questions themselves weren't so mundane: what did my call sign mean? What colony was I born on? Who was the good-looking blonde in the picture in the back? Which was the quickest way to the Memorial Wall?

Not once did he express or appear even vaguely interested in contributing to the 'pool' between us.

I was tired of this farce by then and called it quits. "I'm done," I declared, throwing Full Colors onto the table and standing quickly.

"Don't blame you," Richards said genially. "You've actually got more staying power than I thought, Turtle."

"That's Lieutenant Phippen, friend."

"Sorry again, Lieutenant." Richards stood and began stuffing the slips into the pockets of his jacket.

"You really going to present those to the President?"

"To her and the Quorum, when I see 'em next. Ought to be more informative than the boilerplate shit I'll have to listen to."

I chuckled at this throwaway description of the government. "Really?" Richards straightened and looked me in the eye.

"My left hand to the Gods, Lieutenant," he stated earnestly, holding his right hand up while still clutching a couple slips.

"That's your right hand."

"Eh? Oh, right." He quickly switched hands and repeated, "My left hand to the Gods, Lieutenant, I'll bring your questions to any Q-and-A or testimony I'm part of." Without another word, he turned and left the room, his bored-looking Marine minder following him.

"Why do I actually believe that?" I muttered to the photo of Captain Kara Thrace, the same one Mr. Richards has been eyeing when I'd walked in. The long-gone legend apparently had no comment on the subject.

Just as well. If she had it would mean I was a cracked up as Apollo, which frankly wasn't something I cared to be. Ever.

With a sigh, that was equal parts boredom and fatigue, I left the room myself, intent upon getting back to my rack and just lie there for a while. Hopefully, the next time I got up the world would make a bit more sense.

I didn't listen to the wireless, and so missed what came next. To my eternal and ongoing regret, most of the rest of the squadron didn't either.

TBC...


	23. Chapter 23

**Part 23**

_**Special Broadcast from FleetNews Service.**_

_**16 Lybrana, 2044 PC (Post-Colonization)**_

"This is Brendon Pitts reporting from The Gallery chamber aboard the battlestar _Galactica_. In the same room where, just two years ago, Gaius Baltar was found not guilty of charges of treason against the Colonies, we now wait for a special committee from the Quorum of Twelve to arrive and, hopefully, answer the rumors that have been spreading like wildfire throughout the Fleet for the past two days.

"As our listeners may know, ever since our last FTL jump two days ago the President and Admiral have been meeting behind closed doors and the Galactica's entire air wing has been flying constant patrols. Speculation has ranged from reports that President Roslin is in her final stages of cancer, to an encounter with other survivors of the Colonies. Some sources have suggested the Cylons have reappeared; this is judged unlikely; however, given the battlestar is presently at Condition Two. Both the President's office and _Galactica's_ staff have imposed a complete news blackout regarding the reasons behind this.

"That blackout however ended less than two hours ago when the President summoned the Senior Committee of the Quorum to _Galactica_. The topic of that briefing has so far been a closely guarded secret. Many of the staff of the individual Quorum members have gone on record saying they know nothing of the subjects discussed.

"Yet just a quarter hour ago, FleetNews Service was notified of this news conference. No subject was given at the time. Surrounding me is what appears to be _every_ member of the media services throughout the Fleet. I also see several of the Executive Committee of the Crew's Union here, as well as several ships' captains. While no subject was given for all this, one can judge it must be of considerable significance.

"And now...yes, the Senior Committee of the Quorum is entering the room. This session, the Committee consists of the delegates from Leonis, Geminon, Aquaria, and Sagittaron. I see Vice-President Zarek with them, which is somewhat unusual given his previous position on the Quorum itself.

"The Vice-President is now exchanging words with Delegate Maruss of Aquaria, who is presently serving as the Committee's spokesman. Whatever they are discussing, it's clear the Committee members appear shaken. If indeed this news concerns the President herself...ah, Delegate Maruss is calling for the gallery's attention. I'll be switching over to his feed now."

_"Ladies and gentlemen and all listening to us now...I...we...stand witness today over possibly the greatest single moment in our collective history. Of greater moment and importance than even the holocaust that sent us fleeing our homes just a few short years ago. I find myself without words adequate to the moment, and so like any intelligent politician _(polite laughter can be heard at this) _I will instead turn this gathering over to a most...a most important guest we have aboard."_

"Well, that...didn't tell us much. The Committee and Vice-President are all standing now and a pair from the Presidential Security Unit is opening a door at the other end of the room. I have no idea at this point what to expect, ladies and gentlemen. It could be Gaius Baltar for all we know...

"Ah, this "guest" quote unquote has just entered the room and is walking toward a podium that has been set up before the Committee's table. I do not recognize the man. He stands perhaps two metra tall, and is wearing a dark suit. For a moment, I mistook him to be Delegate Adama for Caprica, although our most celebrated and controversial voice on the Quorum is a bit, well, heavier in build than this one. He is also wearing a very trim goatee and has a good bit of gray in throughout.

"This guest, whoever or whatever he is, has now reached the podium and is facing us. Several members of _Galactica's _crew have come in as well, carrying a number of document containers. I can just make out this guest of ours directing the crewmembers to distribute to us whatever is in there. I sincerely hope it is nothing contagious.

"What is being passed around to all attendees is some kind of...information packet. Excuse me, a _sealed_ information packet with the warning "Do Not Open until Directed" across the seal. Could it be the efforts of Delegates Comtal and Whaal have actually borne fruit and the military is at last going operate with greater transparency?

"Delegate Maruss is speaking again.

_"We realize you have many questions now. We ask that you please refrain from them for the moment and allow our guest to complete his presentation. Mr. Secretary, the floor is yours."_

"Our guest speaker has acknowledged he's now in the proverbial hot seat and is turning on the podium's microphone.

_"Before beginning, I'd ask everyone to make sure they have the packets we have prepared for this occasion. Honesty compels me to admit, many with whom I worked were utterly convinced they would not be needed in our collective life times. Please forgive us if they seem a bit amateur. _

_"I will make a brief statement, outlining the matter that brings us here today, after which I will walk you through the contents of the information before you, and make myself available for questions. Again, honesty commands me to report there are several questions already pending for me to answer. I can only hope you will find my answers informative. That all said, I will begin by introducing myself formally. _

"_Ladies and gentlemen of the Colonial Fleet, my name is Benjamin Francis Richards, and it is my honor to serve as the Secretary of State for the Executive Secretariat of United Nations of the planet...Earth."_

"Ladies and gentlemen…I…I'm…everyone around me is sitting here…stunned. Utterly...stunned at this revelation. Can it truly be we've found...?"

_"Many of you, doubtless all of you, are now asking yourselves if__you have indeed found the fabled Thirteenth Colony which departed Kobol forty centuries ago. I will answer that question immediately__**;**__ the answer is yes...and no." _

(Murmurs of unrest)

"_Everyone please allow me to elaborate. Please!"_

(Murmurs quiet)

"_Thank you. Yes, it appears the thirteenth colony did indeed land on Earth approximately four thousand years ago. However... however... we know from our own historical records the planet was already populated by a species almost identical to those brave colonists. There is in fact strong evidence that they successfully held onto their culture in the intervening years. To this day, those you call the Twelve Lords of Kobol are known and remembered throughout our world, and one of the greatest civilizations in our history is an almost perfect mirror for the First State of your own Colonies._

"_With this evidence in mind, we believe it can safely be said that yes, Earth is the location of the Thirteenth Colony of Kobol. But, and I must emphasize this, they did not arrive on a planet devoid of life. Nor…nor has Koboli culture been the only one to influence upon and help shape my planet's history._

"_We are your cousins, yes, but more by marriage than by direct lineage. I tell you this now so you understand you are about to enter a world far different from what you have know or possibly have imagined. Ours is a__world of many peoples and many faiths. Our history is filled with violent clashes between them as no single language, place, or myth binds us as one. _

"_The United Nations, which I serve, is not a single governing body but rather a forum whereby international disputes are brought forward and resolution sought without resorting to war. More importantly it serves as a guard against aggression, both within and without, against our member nations. Our world has suffered too much loss in recent memory to wish to see more. _

"_As the Secretary of State, I assure you we will welcome you as equals, place no demands you give up one iota of your heritage, and will honor your history and your ways. But you in turn will be expected to respect our world's many cultures, some of which I am sure will seem…alien to you._

"_Doubtless, many here have questions aplenty for me. Doubtless, many listening have still more. I can only promise I will do my level best to answer them each in turn. Please forgive me if I am circumspect in my answers; we are well aware of the Cylons and do not wish to jeopardize planetary security. It would be rather ironic if Earth were destroyed just as you've reached it."_

(Small ripple of laughter)

"_But before I open the floor, however, there are a handful of inquiries which came to me via a member of _Galactica's_ crew which I promised would be heard. I will not say who or in what position this crewmember serves, but both President Roslin and Admiral Adama have agreed they deserve answers. I hope you will bear with me long enough to go through them. Hopefully, this will put to rest some worries those listening may have."_

"Brendon Pitts here again. Secretary Richards is now pulling a handful of…slips of paper from his jacket. It seems he really did get some questions from somewhere. He's, um, organizing them into a neater pile than…okay, it looks like he's about to start again."

TBC…


	24. Chapter 24

**Part 24**

_**Special Broadcast from FleetNews Service - Continued.**_

"Brendon Pitts here again. Secretary Richards is now pulling a handful of…slips of paper from his jacket. It seems he really did get some questions from somewhere. He's, um, organizing them into a neater pile than…okay, it looks like he's about to start again."

"_There are twenty questions total, so…uh, excuse me a moment."_

"The Secretary appears to be searching for something else in his pockets now. Ah, it's a pair of…reading glasses. I think…"

"_My apologies. We've colonized our own star system in barely a decade but we still need reading glasses. Go figure."_

"I think that was meant as a joke. It's…rather hard to tell here…"

"_As I said this is a series of twenty questions. The first is 'What is Earth like?' Um… imagine Aquaria, but with thirty-percent less landmass. What continents there are have a combination of the farms and fields of Aerelon, Virgon and Leonis, the deserts from Canceron, the mountain ranges of Scorpia, rainforests from Libris, temperate forests like Picon and Caprica, tundras from Sagittaron, and the sort of urban sprawl you'd find on Tauron. That's what Earth looks like from orbit, and it doesn't begin to cover the sheer diversity of flora and fauna both on land in the oceans._

"_Second question: 'Do they Olympic-level Pyramid on Earth?' We, uh, don't play Pyramid on Earth. We do however have Olympic Games every five years in which athletes compete across roughly two hundred different types of events. Perhaps we'll pick up Pyramid as well._

"_Third question: 'Are the Lords of Kobol still worshiped?' As I've already stated, those you call 'Lords of Kobol' are a significant part of our planet's history and cultural heritage. They are not really worshipped in our era nor have they been for some time. I suspect that will change once your people have settled._

"_Fourth: 'Will the Colonies be allowed to settle into their own communities?' I don't see why not if they so choose in the future. That, however, is not my decision to make right now._

"_Fifth: 'Does Earth have a military space fleet?' We do. Obviously, I can't go into details about it at this time. Suffice it to say we're quite confident of our defensive capability._

"_Sixth: 'What kind of toasters are on Earth?' Electric ones mostly. Some more energy efficient than others. _

"That was definitely a joke, friends. And a groaner at that going by the looks the Secretary is receiving..."

"_Seventh question reads 'Do they eat more than frakking algae?' That is a direct quote, by the way. I assure you the only people I know who eat algae are career vegetarians. We certainly are not going to expect you to continue such a diet once you've settled on-planet. _

"_I will take this moment to inform you all that we have relief supplies coming in shortly to help alleviate the Fleet's immediate needs. And I promise you, there will not be _any_ algae products among them._

"_Eighth question reads 'Can we settle where we want?' Well, that is a matter of discussion for the future. I can say the UN is setting up a temporary settlement for you in a region called Wisconsin. It's not unlike the Naapi Valley region on Virgon, and will serve as an interim site for your people to become acclimated to Earth. Where you go from there will be up to your government and yourselves._

"_Ninth: 'Is the fishing good?' Ah. I...have no idea. I've never fished a day in my life._

_"Ten: 'Will we have to become farmers?' Again, that's really up to you. _

_"Eleven: 'Will you let us teach our children about the history of the Twelve Colonies?' Yes. I can't say it any more plainly than that._

_"Twelve: 'Do you expect us to defend you against the Cylons?' No. As I've said, we're confident of our defensive ability against the Cylons._

_"Thirteen: 'Have you ever encountered the Cylons?" No. But we've learned a thing or two over the past century about fighting a total war._

_"Fourteen: 'Will we be allowed to return to the Colonies if we choose to some day?' If that is the wish of your government, then yes. And you have my word you won't be going alone._

_"Fifteen: 'D o we__have to worry about any alien bugs or diseases wiping us out?' For reasons I can't go into right now, the answer for the moment is no. We will, of course, be monitoring this very carefully._

_"Sixteen: 'What kind of music do you have on Earth?' A better question would be what kind _don't_ we have? I'm sure you'll be pleasantly surprised by the artistry involved._

_"Seventeen: ' Will all our religious traditions be respected?'"_

"The Secretary seems a bit stumped by this one..."

_"I'm going on the record saying this so there is no misunderstanding: enshrined in the United Nations Charter is what are known as 'The First Guarantees'. Foremost among them is the guarantee, the _absolute _guarantee, that all religious and cultural practices are treated with equal respect. Some of those traditions may strike the majority of us as...barbaric...but so long as there is no attempt to impose them upon others by force, the UN has no right or cause to take issue with them. _

_"Some of our member nations have...melded...religion and politics into an unstable brew in recent history; most of those have long since fallen to the wayside. It is our earnest hope your people will not follow them, but ultimately you are responsible for yourselves and what you leave your children. _

_"Ahem, that's a long winded way of saying yes; all aspects of Koboli religion will be respected._

_"Eighteen: 'What do you want from us?' We want you to live. To rebuild your people, your civilization. To relearn how to live without fear. To maybe, learn a few things from us, and perhaps to teach us a few things as well in the process._

_"Nineteen: 'What will you do with any skin jobs you might capture?' That is a...very sensitive subject. One that will require a great deal more discussion between the President, the Quorum, and the Secretariat before any decisions are made._

_"Twenty: 'Will you..."_

_(Quiet murmuring) _

"The Secretary appears very disturbed by this question. Though what it might be I can't say right..."

_"I...I, uh, apologize. The question is 'Will you be able to cure President Roslin's cancer?'"_

(Absolute silence)

_"I don't know. I pray to the gods we can. If we can't...I pray that at least Pythia was wrong that the Dying Mater will not live to see her children reach their new home."_

"I...have nothing to add to this. The Secretary is apparently struggling with...rather strong emotions at the moment...as are several here in the Galley."

(Quiet murmuring)

"The, ah, Secretary is turning now to address the Senior Committee."

_"Mr. Speaker?"_

_"Yes, Mr. Secretary?"_

_"I think this would be an appropriate moment for us to break for a bit. Allow those present to go through the materials we've provided and consider some questions of their own. Agreed?"_

_"Yes, agreed? Mr. Vice-President? Any objection?"_

_"None whatsoever, Mr. Speaker."_

_"In that case, I am calling a two hour recess."_

"Um, that appears to be it for the moment, ladies and gentlemen. Secretary Richards has already left the Gallery and the Senior Committee is filing out as I speak. I, uh, don't see the Vice-President anywhere now. This has all been...shocking...to say the least. I will be consulting with my producers now and, um, will bring you updates as they...as they become available.

"Control, sign, uhm, sign me off please."

(microphone cuts off)

_"This has been a Special Report from FleetNews Service. Please stand by for further updates."_

_TBC..._

_**De author seez: **well, there you go. Hopefully this makes up for missing all of last week. But then given what premiered on the 4th, is anyone surprised? _

_And before you ask, yes, Athena's discovery in part 21 is going to prove significant in coming chapters. Precisely when is up the characters and the Muse. But trust me when I say it'll be good. At least, I think it is, but then I'm biased._

_See you next week. _

* * *


	25. Chapter 25

_(Okay, another short one, but no less significant for it. Author's notes at the end.)_**Part**** 25**

* * *

**Battlestar **_**Olympus**_

**Conference Blue, E Deck**

**+22:10:19 **

_**(Mahn)**_

I had learned much about my charges in the hour since their parents had sent us away. It made for diverting enough study so I would not worry myself over how completely the Colonel and the Delegate would likely tear each other apart. The fact no general alarms sounded and there had been no calls for medical teams – yet – was less encouraging than it probably should have been.

First-hand experience had shown me how quickly the Colonel could destroy anyone who threatened her, and the Delegate did not appear to be any lightweight either.

Rather than worry over what could not be changed or influenced, I instead turned all my attention to ensuring the children were sufficiently engaged. Secretary Richards (how many times a day did she have to remind herself of his new title?) had shown good foresight in sending them to Conference Blue; it was really a reception room, with deeper carpeting and minimal furniture around. It was also close enough to the kitchens that response time would be close to immediate should they require food.

Aurora was a known quantity to me, whose ease with others clearly extended to Cassandra and Payamintra. Or rather, 'Kasey' and 'Paya', as the former quite forcefully corrected me as soon as we were settled and the XO had left. It was an interesting dynamic, to say the least. Fortunately, having been the eldest of three children and having legal custody of the younger two gave me some preparation for such things.

Even so, no sooner had we settled and I placed out a few model ships brought over from Planning than Paya began vigorously rubbing her eyes. Settling Aurora to the floor and making sure to keep her clearly in sight, Kasey and I laid out one of the sleeping bags that had been stockpiled there. Paya lay down without comment and was quickly asleep.

**"Paya gets tir-urd easy,"** Kasey informed me gravely.

**"So I see. And are you tired?"**

Kasey shook her head sharply, thick curls swinging this way and that. **"I don' like sleepin'."**

**"Oh?"**

**"My momma went to sleep an' didn't get up."**

**"Ah." **I resisted the urge to tell her I had undergone a similar loss, seeing no sense in encouraging the child's discomfort. **"Would you like to play with Aurora and **me**?"**

Kasey nodded and quickly sat down opposite Aurora, grabbing up a Viper model. Aurora fixed her with curious stare, and then resumed gumming the Battlestar model she had picked up. The child seemed to prefer the larger ships, despite her mother's continual efforts to interest her in the fighters. I constantly feared she would attempt to take the child up with her in the cockpit since she had regained her flight status.

**"You going to say anything?" **Kasey challenged Aurora, who just blew a raspberry and grinned widely. **"Whoosh!"** was Kasey's response, 'flying' her Viper so it nearly touched Aurora's nose. I was uncertain how to respond to this, mindful this was a daughter of a member of the Colonial government; it might not stand well if I were to discipline her, old school.

Then again, she was also the daughter of Lee Adama, whom the Colonel had pontificated over (at length) for the last year and on a nearly daily basis. The few times I had spoken with Katherine about it, I had been assured this was all a sign of affection despite the rather...colorful...declarations to the opposite.

**"Cassandra..."** I began, which provoked the sharp retort I had hoped for.

**"Kasey!"**

**"As you wish. Kasey, please be careful playing with Aurora. You are older and should be a better example for her."**

My chiding might have been more effective if Aurora hadn't burst out laughing that same moment. The toddler seemed to find everything amusing these days, or at least everything aboard ship; she was normally far quieter in our quarters on Nellis, where distractions were minimal.

Kasey thankfully appeared to take my words to heart, sitting back so she was less in danger of tumbling into Aurora. She picked up a second Viper from the small pile and began waving them about in a weaving pattern. Aurora eyes tracked the Viper's every movement with the sort of fascinated attention I often felt chilled by. The toddler carefully set down her battlestar and began mimicking Kasey's hand movements, albeit without much precision.

I truly dreaded reporting this to her mother. The next thing you would know, the engineering staff at Nellis would be constructing customized flight suits for her and installing a second seat in her mother's plane.

Or not, given the common-sense strictures upon the Colonel's movements and stick-time these days. Although, why the three of us hadn't been shuttled off the _Olympus_ the moment Case ZULU had been called I have no idea.

Kasey had noticed Aurora's moving in time with her, biting her lip in thought. I wondered if I would need to intercede again when Kasey suddenly leaned forward, holding out one of her Vipers to Aurora, who looked at it for several seconds before dropping the battlestar and grasping the offered toy. She then began waving it about, rocking herself back and forth as she did. Kasey soon joined in, now following Aurora's 'lead'.

Pleased with this small turn of events, I felt confident enough to check on Paya. Making sure I kept the other two clearly in sight, I moved to kneel beside the sleeping child. I was immediately struck how her breathing appeared slightly labored, and a fine line of sweat now covered her forehead.

I fought down my alarm lest I disturb the otherchildren; I rose and reached for the nearest wall-phone. Keeping an eye on all three of them, I punched in the general address code and spoke into the receiver. "Pass the word: CMO please contact Conference Blue."

No sooner were the words out of my mouth than a most familiar voice chimed over the receiver. _"Conference Blue, Commander Creo."_

"Lieutenant Mahn here, Sir."

_"Is it urgent, Lieutenant?"_

"I am...uncertain, Sir. I have two Colonial children here, one of whom appears to be in some distress."

_"Colonial children? Wha...?"_

"The daughters of a member of the Quorum who is visiting."

_"Of all the idiotic...I'll be there in five! Creo clear."_

I settled the receiver back on its cradle and turned back to my charges. Kasey had retaken the 'lead' and was executing mini-barrel rolls around Aurora's plane. For her part, Aurora was attempting to copy these moves, her limited dexterity impeding this but only a bit. I would have marveled still longer at her ever-growing store of surprises when Commander Creo breezed in barely two minutes later. I had learned the man was not one or stall when it came to children; he'd been a more frequent visitor to the Colonel's quarters aboard _Olympus_ than the CO, XO and CAG combined. He also carried a surprisingly large medical case, clearly having come loaded for bear.

I moved to obscure his arrival from Kasey and quickly directed him towards Paya. Even so, Kasey sensed the new arrival and leaned around to view Commander Creo placing his stethoscope on Paya's chest.

**"Who that?'** she questioned practically.

**"He is our ship's doctor. I am concerned about Payamin...Paya." **I had hoped my _faux pas_ would be enough to distract her from asking further. No such luck.

**"Wus' he doin'?"**

**"He's checking to make sure nothing is wrong with Paya."**

**"Oh."**

"Find out if she has any medical conditions, Lieutenant," the CMO ordered, readjusting the stethoscope's position.

**"Kasey, does Paya get sick often?" **I calmly asked her in her native tongue.

**"No. Doc, she ha' a breathin' problem or somethin'."**

I nodded and called gently over my shoulder "Sir? Her sister says she has some manner of lung condition that interrupts her breathing."

Commander Creo nodded and wrapped the stethoscope around his neck. "Yeah, that sounds about right. Doesn't sound like asthma right now, thank god. Probably a mild infection…" He opened the case and extracted a simple inhaler, making some small adjustments to its capsule, followed by a cool compress. "Lieutenant? A moment please?"

**"Stay here please, Kasey,"**I directed, then quickly moved to kneel beside the CMO. "Sir?"

He handed me the compress and inhaler. "Use these. I'm fairly sure it's nothing more serious than a bit of phlegm. The cloth goes on the back of her neck to reduce the sweats. Use the inhaler if she starts coughing when she wakes. Call me immediately if that happens. Understood?"

"Aye, Sir."

"And what the hell was Rich thinking, letting kids aboard like this?"

"I believe they accompanied their father aboard."

Commander Creo gave me a pointed look. "That was a rhetorical question, Lieutenant."

"I know, Sir."

Another look followed this, along with a shake of his bald head. "Thrace is really rubbing off on you, isn't she?"

"Yes, Sir."

"God help us. When her father gets back, inform him I very strongly advise him to bring both girls to MedBay so I can check them through."

"Yes, Sir." We saluted one another and he departed, doubtless to read a riot act to the CO. I did not envy the Commodore.

Turning back to Paya, I carefully eased the compress behind her neck and made sure she wasn't further discomforted. She appeared to relax however, which proved no small relief. Just as well as that was the same moment Aurora somehow unbalanced herself and tumbled onto her back.

The carpeting was sufficient padding that she wasn't hurt by this. If anything she appeared to appreciate this new perspective on the world as much as she had playing with Kasey, who just stared as if the toddler had suddenly grown an extra pair of arms. I moved back over to them, mindful to keep an eye on Paya as well, I knelt beside the ever-active Aurora, who ceased her wiggling and rocking from side to side as she started back up at me with her ever-clear blue eyes. Her intensity was…disconcerting…for one so small and fragile.

Not wanting to be left out, Kasey moved to kneel on the opposite of her and looked down as well. At first sight of her new playmate, Aurora resumed her waving and rocking.

"**You're weird,"** Kasey declared, her tone not entirely friendly.

Aurora simply giggled, which led Kasey to glower even more.

I wondered how much longer we would have to wait for their parents. The odds of a diplomatic incident between these two were clearly increasing by the minute.

TBC…

**De Author Seez: **_I realize recent chapters have been on the short side; chalk it up to a Muse that's been sparing with words and confirmation of a new arrival to the family. Plus which I'm under pessure from several directions, which is cutting into writing time seriously. I'm also sad to say this will be it for the next week or so as I will be out of the country for a personal matters this weekend. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me thus far; I promise there will be more substantive developments to come._

_In the meantime, please don't be shy about further feedback. It helps bribe the Muse! See you next week._


	26. Chapter 26

**Part 26**

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

**CIC**

**+20:35:06 **

_**(Adama)**_

"_Have you lost your fucking mind, Adama?!"_

Secretary Richards cut the connection between us before I could even begin to formulate an answer. I couldn't say I was entirely shocked by his reaction. Standing there, I couldn't help but begin to doubt the course of action I'd just taken. Then again, it wasn't as if I'd been able to really focus on anything, literally _anything_, beyond the packet of photos Kara's aide-slash-bodyguard had slipped me before our leaving _Olympus_.

I'd been on autopilot since then, barely listening to the Terran Commodore's answers to Laura's questions and offering even less myself. I couldn't recall a single word I'd read from the materials Richards had brought over with him. Laura and I had emerged from that Q-and-A completely wrung out; all we could do at that point was pass the photos of Aurora back and forth. We didn't even think of tuning in the wireless to listen to Richards' press conferences, having effectively delegated organizing it and briefing the Senior Committee

I made sure Laura was resting peacefully on my couch. I had no such respite; there were the incoming relief supplies to be distributed after all. Besides, it wouldn't do for both the President and the Admiral to be missing all this time. Appearances needed to be maintained, if nothing else.

I ordered Majors Agathon and Gaeta to coordinate the distribution with the Terrans. Agathon was proving the most level-headed about everything**.** Whether that was simply his true feelings or a reflection of how he'd had more time to process the bombshell of Kara's return, I couldn't say. Gaeta appeared to know nothing about her re-appearance and I decided to keep it that way for the time being. No doubt, once the novelty of the Terrans played out, someone somewhere would start talking, after which time rumors would fly like pollen in the wind.

That was hours ago, yet I was still no closer to any kind of peace with it than I had been when she'd first introduced me to Aurora. Those memories were nearly enough to drive me to my knees right there in the damned CIC.

* * *

**Battlestar **_**Olympus**_

**Cabin of Colonel Kara Thrace**

**+05:45:47**

"Admiral Adama?"

Kara's voice was soft, almost shy, yet strong enough to pull me away from further questioning her aide about the circumstances of her appointment; a great deal was left unspoken in what little she'd told me and I was quite ready to demand names at that point. I knew I'd never hear the full details from Kara herself, no matter how much I begged, pleaded or bellowed.

Turning around, my knees nearly gave way under me as my mind briefly rejected the sight before me: Kara was holding a child of at most a year old. There was no question of who her mother was. Kara's distinctive cheeks, chin and smirk werealready in evidence. What caught me was the thick head of dark hair framing those beautiful features. The bright blue eyes there grasping my attention and holding tight with an open mixture of intense scrutiny and complete innocence.

Sadly, this appeared to rob me of both common sense and control of my voice. "Wha...what the frack is that?!" I squeaked in shock.

In reply, the child giggled loudly and tugged on her mother's collar.

Kara herself merely smirked and murmured loudly into her small twin's ear, "I think Granpa 'Dama is being silly." This elicited a carefree laugh, one nearly mirrored by the young woman behind me.

"Wha...how...?" I stuttered, prompting Kara to look at me directly.

"Well, Admiral, when a man really likes a woman, and there's an empty storage locker nearby..."

"Enough! I get it!" I all but roared, _not_ wanting intimate details that were surely coming right then. I actually did get it by then, at least in part and entirely after the fact. At least she hadn't started any kind of finger-puppet 'demonstration'.

Hadn't Athena confirmed for me not ten minutes ago Kara's new 'abdominal scarring' was precisely what it looked like? How in Hades' name had I _not_ been paying attention right then? Where was my head? Back then, my brain had been standing outside in the hallway, the marks I'd left on her neck doubtless still in evidence.

But right _then_ it was held in Kara's arms, smiling and looking all about.

Forget my head. I doubt my _heart_ could take another hit from those eyes. Fortunately for my old ticker, the child was now preoccupied with the buttons on her mother's jacket, much like I recalled Lee and Zak doing with me when they were her age...

That line of thinking nearly sent me to the floor. "Perhaps you should sit down, Admiral," Lieutenant Mahn said as she gently led me to the sofa nearby. I normally would have protested, except I had no pride left to salvage and was certain I'd convinced both her and Kara I was a now nothing but a doddering, silly old man. My starting to hyperventilate probably sealed such a judgment.

It was too much, all too damned much! Kara was alive. _Alive! _And she had a...a child?!

"Ha...how?" I unconsciously croaked out, somehow looking up to meet Kara's eyes.

Those eyes rolled in trademark fashion and the Colonel asked "How _what_, Admiral? _How_ did this little one come about?" She lifted her child up slightly to emphasize the point. "_How_ did I get to Earth? _How_ long have I been here? _How _much have I told them...?"

"HOW..." I started shouting, immediately biting my tongue as the child jumped in her arms, clearly startled by the noise. "How...how about we start with something simple? Like how in the name of the Twelve Lords of Kobol are you still _alive_?"

"Ah, yeah. That's a good place to start. Here, maybe you'd better hold Aurora." Before I could think, she all but plopped the energetic toddler into my lap. My arms came around her instinctively, cradling her to me firmly enough soshe wouldn't escape.

"Aurora?" I asked, unable to take my eyes from this small miracle.

"Seemed appropriate. I arrived, well, crash-landed on Earth just at dawn one morning, and _she_ decided to pop out at dawn. Plus I gave you your ship's masthead the day I, uh, left." She shrugged, suddenly sounding apologetic about...well, something. "It was, um, Ben's idea."

"Ben?"

"Benjamin Richards, back when he was just the lead linguist on the colony ship they dug up."

"Is...is she...?" I wasn't sure how to ask the obvious question, unsure if I wanted to hear the honest answer.

"Ben's? Lords, no! No, Sir, he's still hung up on his dead wife. No chance of...that..."

I didn't examine too closely why this news was so important to me right then. My relieved breath was just loud enough I felt embarrassed by it. "Okay," I breathed as I carefully adjusting my hold on her, on Aurora. Her grin was infectious, my lips drawing back to mirror her glee.

Without looking up, I repeated my question "How did you survive that storm, Kara?" The unspoken accusation laced my words, one I both regretted and relished.

Her answer instantly drained me any such things. "I don't know."

My head snapped up sharply. "You…don't…know?" I stumbled over each word, believing each of them despite myself; Kara's bleak expression as she sat herself on the coffee table opposite me, left no room for any other thought. It caused the hundreds of preconceptions to come crashing down; I realized I'd been prepared for her to be a Cylon, for Centurions to suddenly appear around every corner, for this to be the last joke upon me and mine by the Titans of old as revenge against the Twelve Lords, and for all of us to die in a hail of nuke-tipped missiles.

Except there weren't any Centurions or nukes to be seen; only the end of an exodus, our finding a place I hadn't believed in, foretold in scriptures I hadn't put any faith in since I was a rook pilot.

There were still thousands of questions to be answered. Naturally I couldn't think of a single one right then.

"I know about Sam," Kara said quietly. When I didn't move in response she added "Athena told me when we were in de-con coming back aboard _Olympus _from the _Nemesis_."

I had nothing to say to this. Nothing I dared say aloud and with such young ears nearby, at any rate.

"Have you...have you found the other four skin jobs?" she asked.

"Just one more. Tory Foster."

"The President's press aide?"

"Hmm."

"How did you find her out?"

I cleared my throat to buy myself a few extra seconds. "The Sadeim Nomen tried to...sacrifice...the President about six months after you...after you left."

"You're frakking with me," Kara snorted. "The Sadeim actually _survived _in the Fleet?"

"Only a few hiding among the Gemmonese**.** Apparently they decided the Feast of Dioyun would be a good time to try it."

Lieutenant Mahn chose that moment to speak up. "Your pardons, Sirs. Please explain these 'Sah-deem'?"

"Nothing to worry about, Shan," Kara spoke quickly, only to be cut off by the bold Lieutenant.

"My apologies, Colonel. But a sect that would assassinate a Head of State is very _much_ my concern." Her almond eyes fixed on mine like a Battlestar's firing solution. "Admiral?" she prompted a beat later.

Meeting hereyes on head-on, I elaborated "A splinter group from a fundamentalist line amongst the first settlers on Geminon. They believed and practiced ritualistic sacrifice. Their victims were not always...willing."

"I see. And are these 'Nomen' are now extinct?"

"We believe so. Certainly those who participated in the attack on President Roslin are all dead."

"President Roslin survived due to the intervention of her aide, yes?"

"And the quick reaction of her protective detail, yes."

"There was no suggestion their existence prior to this?"

"None I'm afraid. We've been very attentive since then." We had actually been remarkably calm about it all, Laura most of all. She personally appealed to the Fleet to remain calm, even going so far as to publicly dress down any of the Police force who got overzealous. The assassins had been identified easily and the Gemmonese had been almost desperate to clear themselves any possible accusation of collusion.

I didn't see any reason to upset Kara more at that point telling her our investigations afterwards had confirmed that the Nomen had a second target in mind if they'd somehow missed 'The Dying Mater'. They'd have tried for Lee next, based upon his hysterical-sounding claims of seeing her in the Nebula and therefore marking him in their minds as a budding Oracle. I had no idea how to broach that particular subject right then, particularly with the very precious burden in my arms. Kara's not asking about him giving me an excuse to delay there a little longer on that score.

Needing something to redirect the discussion a bit, I stated, "The odd thing about Anders and Foster was they proved very...difficult...to kill."

Lieutenant Mahn frowned. "How so, Sir?" Kara frowned as well, but held her peace.

"They, well, healed incredibly fast."

"_How_ fast, Admiral?"

"Fast enough they both survived injuries that should have terminated them. Several times over each."

"You know this from direct experimentation?" Lieutenant Mahn's voice carried a distinct chill to it, one which actually made me feel offended at my crew's conduct.

"No," I shook my head. "Each time was more accidental than anything." Saul literally beating Anders to death, then the Marines I stationed there going trigger-happy, and finally the guards deciding _not _to intervene when Anders and Foster made a game of beating each other bloody; it took me months to get my head around it all.

"Then they both must have been born under an ill star indeed to suffer so many accidents." The small lieutenant's professional tone, incredibly, made me feel smaller still. I was just grateful I had Aurora to give me an excuse to avoid her eyes.

"That's enough, Shan," Kara growled. "I'm gonna take you at your word on this Admiral. You understand I'm gonna have to share this with Secretary Richards and Admiral Rice, right?" I nodded again. "All this aside, I'm still not going aboard _Galactica_."

"I...I understand."

"Hell," she laughed a little hoarsely. "When Ben and Ted hear about all this, I'll be lucky if they let us out of this frakking room just to visit the head." She looked up at her aide with damp eyes. "Looks like you'll finally get your way about keeping me and the kid confined to base, Shan. Congrats!"

I glanced at the Lieutenant, who now looked as anxious as I felt by the change in Kara's tone. I had never seen her this close to outright hysterics before now, and quite honestly,I had no idea what to do.

Instead I opted to blind instinct, leaning forward and gathering her to me with one arm while the other balanced Aurora. She was visibly shaking at this point and it was all I could do to keep hold of both her and the baby. Lieutenant Mahn had beat a retreat to somewhere out of sight; I had no idea where and didn't really care at that point.

"Kara, Kara, Kara," I muttered like a prayer mantra, as much to convince myself fully as to comfort her.

"Frak, Sir," she sniffled, pulling away slightly so she could gaze at her daughter. "Gonna give that little girl a complex..." I had no idea where that came from, so I ignored it. Unfortunately I couldn't think of anything to fill the silence between us right that moment.

"Athena said Lee's still alive," she asked quietly. "Is that true?"

"Yes. He's okay. He, um, handed in his wings..."

Kara quickly interrupted again. "I don't want to know. At least, not right now. I...I, uh, I'm still trying to process this. Okay? Not sure I could take any more shocks right now."

_She_ couldn't take any more shocks? I was ready to knock her flat on her damned ass and start demanding some answers. Except I couldn't even raise my finger against her, given the rather important burden I was carrying. Said burden apparently unhappy it was being ignored and was urgently tugging on my senior pilot wings, hitting me with those inescapable blue eyes of hers and demanding I surrender them to her.

I carefully undid the clasp holding the wings to my jacket, and just as carefully refastened it onto her coveralls. My reward was another wide grin, which was worth more to me than my admiralty could possibly offer.

Kara was no less affected by the gesture, although it was only her gathering Aurora from me and cradling her close with such a stiff set to her shoulders that gave me any clue as to her feelings. "She's beautiful," I stated, realizing I hadn't said anything of the sort before that moment.

"I'm fond of her," Kara murmured. "Right, nugget?"

Aurora looked between us and clapped her hands together once. This could have been a sign of agreement or - given who her mother was - a sign of displeasure. I couldn't immediately tell which and had no inclination to analyze.

"Give me your eyes, Colonel." It was likely the last order I'd ever give her, but I wasn't about to leave without at least a few answers to take back with me. Thank the gods she deigned to follow my order. "You swear to me you don't know how you got to Earth?"

"Before Artemis and Athena, Sir."

"And you haven't made any promises or commitments to Richards or his people binding us to them?"

She gave me a wavering smile. "I didn't think...didn't dream I'd ever _see_ any of you again this side of Styx."

Of course she'd think that. Given what little I'd seen and been told, for her to have hoped otherwise would have been naïve. I flinched as it hit me just how...how isolated she must have been the last two years; another point I would have to raise with Secretary Richards later.

I pressed on despite my growing discomfort. "Are _you_ bound to them in any way?"

She snorted. "They just see me as a decent flight instructor with a fancy title, Sir. If the Secretariat thought for one minute I'd exhausted my use to them, they'd have packed me off to the back end of nowhere."

Knowing her and going by Richards' earlier words, there was a lot more to it than that. I made a mental note to raise this with him later as well, when Kara herself was well out of earshot.

"Okay, Kara. You know I...we...will need to talk to you some more. But that's for later." She was about to protest when I cut her off, passing the now pliant Aurora back to her. "This little one looks like she needs some rest. You _both_ do."

"Rest?" Kara snorted in trademark fashion. "I haven't so much as sat down since _Nemesis_ jumped right on top of me and Greyhound."

I tramped down a flare of emotion at hearing this. "Your new wingman?"

"Hardly. He's the CAG here. I'm just visiting."

"I see," I muttered, thoughts darkening by the second. I desperately needed to find what happened to Saul, and to learn what else had been kept from me about their first contact.

Seeing Aurora was safely back in her mother's arms, I quickly stood and turned to leave. My balance was a bit off and I nearly tripped over her coffee table. Every step was like moving through a pool of tree sap, my heart and soul utterly terrified she would disappear on me if I left. "Is there anything...anyone you want me to tell...?" I struggled with the words.

"That's up to you, Admiral. It's not as if I'm up on who's on the Quorum these days." This nearly had me laughing and spilling to her exactly where Lee was working these days; the seriousness of her tone - making it clear she wasn't joking - killed that thought stone dead.

Instead, I simply nodded and gazed at her one last time, holding her daughter close and shoulders set against the onset of threatening tears. "For all our sakes, both of you get some rest, please." Then I gave her a salute, which was returned with equal sharpness, after which I turned and opened her cabin door.

The ten steps I took to meet Richards were nothing compared to the two it took for me to exit her cabin. I literally jumped when the door shut behind me, but did not break my stride as I returned to the conference room where the others were waiting.

By the time I made it back to our delegation, my plan of action was fully mapped out without my even realizing it. All that was left was to get my tired ass back to _Galactica_ and write out a quick note to a very specific member of the Quorum.

It was so simple, so straightforward; I couldn't see _any_ possible downside to it. What was the worst that could happen?

TBC...

* * *

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	27. Chapter 27

**Part**** 27**

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

**Deck B, Secure Section Alpha**

**+13:14:19 **

_**(Richards)**_

"We're lost, aren't we?" I asked my guard-cum-guide. Since my encounter with the Oracle in Dogsville, I had been seized with the need to get away from _Galactica_ as quickly as possible. Precisely what had me so panicked I couldn't say, just that I needed to be off the bucket and back to my own ship.

I was adult enough to accept that, in my haste to exit Dogsville, I had managed to get myself and my escort completely turned around. Unfortunately, my escort didn't look like he knew which way was which either.

"Okay, soldier," I blustered, "I'm just a tourist here. Which way do we go?"

"Um, well, we're on Deck B…so…" While the Marine hemmed and hawed getting his bearings, I kicked myself for not noticing how damned young he looked. Not much older than Mahn did when we brought her on board. I let myself reflect on that while he was otherwise preoccupied.

* * *

_**One Year, Eight Months Ago…**_

**Nellis Air Base, Nevada**

**Office of Base Commandant**

**0858 Hours GMT**

"Will you quit fidgeting?" Wisdom added a glare to his hissed chiding this time, said glare normally enough to cease the offending activity. Lawrence Wisdom was renowned as the master of unspoken threats.

Then again, he hadn't spent much time around Kara Thrace. We had all agreed there was no point in risking loosing our intelligence liaison at that time.

I quit fidgeting as requested, and instead took up drumming my fingers on the conference table beside me. I didn't like Wisdom, Wisdom didn't like me, and neither of us felt the slightest reason to seek a truce. Not even the arrival of Kara...or the recent altercation that brought us together right then.

"Will you..." Wisdom began, only to be cut off by the intercom on the Commandant's desk.

Admiral Curtis Gray, the base commander, had shown the good sense to remain quiet thus far, quickly answered it. "Yes?"

"_The candidate officer is here, Admiral."_

"Send her in," he ordered. I stilled and stood. Wisdom had refused a seat all this time, dividing his time between scowling at the feet and at me. It was just the three of us waiting there: Gray, Wisdom and me. Ted was in Geneva that week and both Erica and Paul had left to oversee the retrofitting of _Asguard_ the previous day. This was by design; Ted was too close to the incident itself and the other two were, well, Erica Tate and Paulson Neill, which just said it all.

We were soon joined by a slender Vietnamese woman wearing crisp dress blues and new Lieutenant's bars. Her 'fruit salad' consisted of just two rows of ribbons, the usual citations and service recognitions. What was more eye-catching were the three medals hanging just above them: two Silver Stars and one depicting crossed swords over an oval shield. She hardly looked old enough to have seen combat, never mind been a serving member of the special forces _Phalanx _unit, but there it was.

There she was. Hopefully, if her service jacket was accurate, she was also the answer to our prayers as well.

She gave Admiral Gray a crisp salute, pointedly ignoring Wisdom and me in the process. "Lieutenant Xian Coy Mahn, reporting as ordered," she announced.

Curtis stood, returning the salute. "Lieutenant Mahn, welcome. Please have a seat." The Lieutenant did as bade, her eyes fixed on the Admiral, even when he waved over towards the two of us..

"This is Mr. Richards and Mr. Wisdom. Both attached to the project here." Curtis managed not to smirk at how she didn't even glance at either of us. He retook his own seat, folded his hands before him and sat forward. "What do you know of our project here, Lieutenant?"

I noted how the Lieutenant's body language didn't move beyond simply 'cautious'. Anyone else should have been outright scared at this point. "Very little, Admiral Gray," she answered neutrally, her tone flat.

A snort from Wisdom, who was examining his shoes again, broke the momentary silence. No one moved. That was Larry Wisdom all over, attention hound and camera hog. Fortunately, all our attention was elsewhere and there weren't any cameras around.

Gray explained, "We've been authorized, Lieutenant, to tell you the work here has a very direct, not to mention absolutely vital, role in the development of the fleet component of the TDF."

"Or," Wisdom broke in. "T'put it in simple words you c'n understand, what we're doin' here is hush-hush as it involves building an actual fleet o'warships. That's whu' we're doin'out here in the desert." I suspected he thickened his Cockney accent deliberately, more to annoy than misdirect.

The young Lieutenant did not spare him so much as a glance. "My clearances are all up to date, Admiral."

"That is one of the two primary reasons you're here right now."

"And the second?"

Had to give her props for directness, I reflected. "That's...a bit more delicate," Curtis delayed. Wisdom simply snorted, louder this time, and let loose another salvo.

"Dunno why your here, luv? An' here you're supposed t'be quick in the head as well as w'your feet. 'Least that's what yer last commander wrote up." He folded his arms and gave her a look that wasn't flattering or appraising. "Don't tell us he was bein' generous. Or were you following the fine tradition o'service beyond the call o'duty to him, eh?

Curtis looked ready to explode at this. I intervened, ordering, "Lawrence, get out."

"'Scuse me?" He actually sounded amused at the order, which left me shaking ever so slightly in my socks.

"I said 'get out'. She's confirmed her clearances are up to date, so you're part in this confab is done. Leave." To underline the point, I walked to the office's only door and opened it. Wisdom gave me his patented glare, but ultimately walked out. It took a considerable effort not to slam the door behind him.

Both Curtis and I shared a silent sigh of relief at his departure. Although Wisdom may have been a good intel guy and absolutely vital to the security of this project, he seemed to make a career out of rubbing everyone the wrong way so they'd hate his guts. I sometimes felt sorry for the man. This was _not_ one of those times.

I fell immediately into the familiar role of peacemaker. "I feel I...we...should apologize for Mr. Wisdom's manners, Lieutenant. I'm sure you understand how working in security can affect one's disposition."

She favored me with a quick glance, one that communicated a great deal. "Quite all right, Sir." She turned back to Curtis and added, "I would like to state for the record, Admiral, I neither sought nor ever offered...favors...of that sort."

"We didn't think you did, Lieutenant. I know Colonel Hayes quite well. He doesn't give praise like this very often."

"Try ever," I muttered. I'd met Ryan Hayes a couple oftimes, and found he was the only person to rub my nerves even worse than Wisdom.

"You were explaining my purpose here, Sir. Does this have something to do with the enigmatic 'Starbuck'?"

I was stuck dumb at her question, while Curtis just looked amused. "Damn, you are good."

"I have no idea who or what 'Starbuck' is, Sir. I have merely heard the name mentioned in conjunction with this facility."

Curtis and I shared a resigned look. "Guess it was good I threw Lawrence out, huh? Otherwise he'd have you sweating under some strong lights right now, Lieutenant." He would have too, which would have pretty much killed the entire point of this meeting – not to mention any hope of getting our Exo-atmo training program back on track - stone dead.

She flashed me a small smile of bravado before returning all attention to the Admiral. "Sir?"

Curtis glanced my way, seeing my nod of acceptance. In response, he pulled out a slender folder from his desk and handed it to Lieutenant Mahn. She took note of the black material of folder itself, eyebrows raised in surprise now; folders like this weren't usually seen outside of ultra-secure briefing rooms four stories underground and attended only by the highest-of-the-highest. Myself, I had gotten used to it a while back and now simply wondered if those files really were resistant to x-rays or digital reproduction.

The Lieutenant visibly hesitated before accepting the folder. _Smart girl_, I noted to myself. Aloud I said, "Let us assure you, Lieutenant, looking at this material will _not_ cause you to disappear from your family's lives." It hit me only a moment later that I didn't know if she even had a family; I had skipped that part of her dossier in favor of reading through her list of citations and martial arts proficiencies.

Fortunately, for us, Curtis had apparently read the entire thing cover to cover. "If you accept this posting, your partner and siblings will be relocated here, at Nellis. It would actually help us in the long run as Dr. Pryde's work seems to dovetail with certain avenues we're exploring as well."

She still hadn't opened the file. "And if I do not accept the posting here?"

"Then you'll be shuttled back to Twentynine Palms and that will be the end of it." Curtis put on as sincere an expression as he could.

This was apparently enough for Lieutenant Mahn, who chose that moment to flip the folder open and began perusing the contents. I hadn't looked into it myself, but going by her expression it was a likely a detailed retelling of the incident from last week. That same expression offered me no clue how much it held about Kara's origins and condition. It probably wasn't much, given Mahn's next few questions.

"Colonel Thrace's condition remains unchanged."

"She and her, ahem, passenger are both stable," I confirmed.

"From the sound of this, she merely requires some added security. Am I to be it?"

I decided to let Curtis field that one. "We aren't looking for a bodyguard for her per se, Lieutenant. If that were the case, we'd simply have a platoon of Marines around her. What we do need is someone who can...watch her back when she's outside the training facilities, as well as offer her advice on more practical matters given her...condition."

"I have no experience with her 'condition', Sir."

"But you have had legal custody of your siblings for the last five years, being in effect their only parent. You can advise her in ways that myself, Mr. Richards here, and Admiral Rice cannot."

I added, "Plus there's the fact you're both fairly close in age, which is another way you can connect with her that we cannot."

"What is the scope of my authority?"

"However much you can carve out for yourself with the Colonel herself. You'll be on record as her primary aide, but no fixed portfolio of duties. You'll accompany her when she's off-base and ensure her escort home at night."

I tried to sweeten the pot as best I could. "As Admiral Gray stated, we'll be relocating your family here to Nellis, so you'll be in as close proximity as possible."

"You mentioned other technical work, Sir?"

"Well, we're developing certain technologies Dr. Pryde might be able to assist with. As you'll all be residing on base, I'm certain the engineering staff will want to consult occasionally."

My talent for languages extended to the unspoken, but Mahn had schooled herself to keep her clues minimal. I had no idea which way she would jump on this, which strangely reassured me more than anything about our selection.

"How soon will we be expected to move?"

"Immediately," Curtis informed her bluntly.

"You'll arrange matters with the University?"

"Of course."

The small, tight smile she offered was all the sign we needed. Neither Curtis nor I tried to cover our mutual sigh of relief this time.

* * *

_**Present Time**_

**Battlestar **_**Galactica**_

I had no idea why I was thinking of my introduction to Shan right then. It hardly seemed relevant to the fact I was lost aboard the last Colonial Battlestar in existence.

"Sir?" Thankfully, my guide had evidentially gotten his bearings and was calling my attention back to the present. If he hadn't, I might have been reliving introducing Shan to Kara, which was an experience I definitely did _not_ want to think about.

"Figured out where we are?" I asked mildly.

"Yes, Sir. We are on B Deck at secured detention. We should go this way..."

I couldn't help the question that slipped out. "Secured detention?"

"Its, uh, where we keep certain...prisoners."

"Cylon prisoners?"

"Uh, yes, Sir."

"And are you presently keeping a Cylon prisoner there?"

"Yes, Sir. But..."

I was not listening at that point, instead turning on my heel and marching toward the door my escort had glanced at so furtively a moment ago. Without preamble, I pushed it open to find myself looking at a barred and clear-walled enclosure within which a young woman paced up and down in a barely furnished cell. Her lips were in equally constant movement, although I couldn't make out her words as the walls were evidentially soundproof.

The prisoner, a near-perfect copy of Captain Agathon, did not appear to even notice my arrival. She was preoccupied with whatever was on her mind right then.

Our arrival, however, was noticed by the two Marines in full tactical kit who had been on guard by the door. They quickly overcame their shock and raised their weapons, butmy escort as quickly waved them back. Their weapons didn't immediately waver even as their stances relaxed.

I paid them no mind as I focused on the prisoner; she didn't appear to have been mistreated or gone unfed. Her clothing consisted of just a pair of sweatpants and tank top, neither of which looked like they'd been changed in some time. She was in constant motion, pacing all about with her head bowed and literally heedless of how often she knocked against the chair and frame of her cot, which were the only furnishing inside the cell.

"How long has she been in here?" I asked.

"Sir?"

Not taking my eyes off the agitated woman, I repeated the question. "How long has she been held in here?"

"About a year, Secretary Richards," my guide – whose name I was ashamed I didn't recall – answered, putting special emphasis on my title. "She was found aboard the _Nemesis_."

"The only survivor?"

"Yes."

"And she's been down here all this time?"

"Yes, Sir. She's actually been catatonic for most of it."

"Doesn't seem like she is now, eh? When the hell did this all start?" I waved towards the pacing, muttering woman.

My escort glanced towards the other guards, gaze expectant. "Just after the last jump," one of them stated. I didn't know which one and didn't care.

"The last jump," I quietly echoed, trying to grasp the implications. "Is there any way we can hear what she's saying in there?"

"There's a monitoring station in the next room, Sir."

"Show me," I ordered, wondering only after the fact if any of them would actually obey. My escort apparently took his job seriously enough that he led me to the monitoring station, which proved little more than a closet with a couple LCD screens fixed to a desk in front of a two-way glass plate looking directly into the cell. The Specialist seated there looked no less shocked by our sudden intrusion; the poor girl looked too small for her uniform and might well have been asleep when we entered.

"Let me hear what she's saying," I directed, not looking at the Specialist. If I actually met anyone's eyes, they'd likely see right through me in seconds, hence my aversion.

It worked as the girl tapped a couple buttons and a low muttering filled room. Only two words could be heard clearly: "Harbinger..." and "Apocalypse..." The rest was incoherent murmurs.

"Do the Admiral and President know about this?"

The too-young Specialist flustered a bit and said, "I, uh, informed the XO when she started babbling..."

"Can I...can we speak to her? Without having to go in there, that is?"

"There's a phone. You can see it there." The Specialist pointed to one of the visible walls beyond the glass. I swallowed my embarrassment and left the room, heading directly to the phone, not letting myself think of how crazy I must be appearing at this point. I'd be lucky if Adama didn't personally kick my ass off the ship for this intrusion.

Rather than dwell on the possible diplomatic and practical complications I was causing by all this, I picked up the receiver unit on the wall and began hammering it on the clear plastic wall in front of me. It took a few minutes of this to break the prisoner's routine of wandering and muttering, her bright eyes fixing on me and her brow furrowing in unspoken question. Small relief, as I was sure the receiver itself wouldn't be able to take much more hammering before it broke.

Slowly, as if suddenly and profoundly afraid, she approached and pulled her own receiver off its cradle. She retreated as far back as the cord would allow. We stared at one another for several beats, neither speaking nor moving. My nerve started to buckle under her unblinking gaze.

"Who...who are you?" she finally asked, her voice small and soft.

"My name is Benjamin Richards," I replied, not willing to part with more. "Who are you?"

"Sharon...Valerii, Lieutenant Junior Grade. Colonial Fleet ID number 56690."

"Call sign 'Boomer', right?"

"Right."

"Okay." I took a deep breath and decided to risk our tentative connection. "Who is the Harbinger?"

"Wha...what?"

"You've been muttering something about a 'harbinger' and an 'apocalypse' for the better part of the last twelve ship hours, Lieutenant Valerii. What's going on?"

"I...I've been saying...that?" She really and honestly sounded confused, which left me even colder than when I'd heard her in the next room.

"Lieutenant, where's your head at?"

"I...I..." she stumbled as she started to look around her cell, as if seeing her surroundings for the first time. Her entire form started to shake badly, only her grip on the receiver and her fixed gaze on me remaining.

"She's _here_," she whispered to me, face utterly blank.

"Who?" I whispered back.

"The Harbinger of the Apocalypse."

With that, she dropped the receiver and retreated to the furthest corner of the cell, movements smooth yet robotic. She then slid to the floor, wrapping her arms around her knees, resting her forehead there and going still once more.

"We should go, Mr. Secretary," my escort quietly stated behind me, firmly taking hold of my arm. I was in no position and no mind to argue, letting him lead me out of the room, and several decks beyond to the hanger deck.

At some point along the way, I asked him, "Got a cigarette?" He handed a crumpled pack of crudely wrapped homemades to me. I pulled one out and let him light it for me, after which I began puffing on it almost desperately.

I had stopped doing this to myself eleven years ago. Now I really needed to get the hell off this ship. I needed distance and time to process all this.

More than anything, I needed to avoid any further serious shocks for at least the next twenty-four hours. How hard could that be?

TBC...

* * *

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	28. Chapter 28

**Part**** 28**

**Battlestar **_**Olympus  
**_**Port Landing Deck**

**+21:15:43 **

_**(Greyhound)**_

I exited _Owl 512_ and handed over my post-flight checklist to the deckhand waiting there, who immediately handed me a typed note signed by the XO stating all of Black Wing, including me, were officially off-shift for the next twelve hours. There was an addendum at the bottom, in the XO's own handwriting, stating I would be grounded and arrested and walled into a pit if I came anywhere near either Flight Deck during that time without General Quarters being called first.

Fine by me, I thought as I marched off. While Secretary Richards had basically handed control of the sky over to the Colonials, the CO hadn't left us idle. Practically every pilot aboard _Olympus_ was in an EU shuttle or an _Owl_ assisting with distribution of supplies off the two container ships. He was, however, wisely keeping a couple of squadrons of Vipers on stand-by in case something unpleasant arrived.

Unfortunately, Black Wing wasn't among those held back forthat tour. I'd spent the last four hours flying between one ship to the other, handing over containers to people speaking a language I didn't understand, and taking orders from civilian contractors I felt uneasy around. It was more nerve-wrecking than getting shot out a launch tube and I was really, really looking forward to some rack time.

I was en route to my quarters when Secretary Richards' voice rang out over the comms: _"Pass the word. Lieutenant-Commander Callisto or Lieutenant Mahn contact the CIC __immediately__."_

"Oh, dear God, what now?" I moaned, wondering what kind of chaos the COMCAW had sown while I was out. My one year training under her at Nellis had reinforced the lesson that an idle Kara Thrace was a _dangerous_ Kara Thrace.

It hadn't been until after our first run to the _Elsinore _that I'd learned the CO and Secretary Richards had essentially confined her to her quarters. Caught up as I was in the hubbub of supply runs and drinking in the details of the Colonial vessels, the consequences of that eminently practical decision didn't immediately occur to me.

Now that I was back aboard _Olympus_? Well, I was more surprised that she _didn't_ have the entire ship in an uproar or at General Quarters.

The CO's voice coming over the comms a short time later didn't encourage me any. _"Pass the word. Lieutenant Mahn, contact the Commodore in Con-Delta ASAP."_

"What the hell did you do, Boss lady?" I muttered to myself, entering my cabin and shucking out of my flight suit as fast as my tired muscles could manage. A quick shower and change into a track suit after that and it was all I could do to literally collapse onto the small loveseat nearby; the two meters it would have taken to stumble to my bed was too arduous a distance right then.

Finally still for more than a few seconds at a stretch, it hit me it had been just over two days since Starbuck and I had chased that _Raptor _and the _Nemesis_ jumped into our sky. Fifty-two hours plus change, and our world was changed completely. It was nearly enough to knock me cold; I couldn't begin to imagine what Starbuck was probably feeling at this point.

Too exhausted to sleep and having no desire to get myself thrown into hack, I sat forward and started shuffling through the papers I'd left on my coffee table three days earlier. Most were flight rotation schedules and the bits of paperwork associated with being CAG. Among them, however was the last piece of personal correspondence I'd received before we'd jumped from Earth orbit. I'd frequently read it as relief from the tedium of paperwork and the gnawing anxiety of having Kara Thrace aboard.

_Dear Two-legged Greyhound_, the single handwritten sheet began. _Count yourself lucky you're half-way across the solar system right now, buddy! 'Cause when you get back planet-side, you and me is gonna have __words__! You want to know how many of your lady friends are still calling MY HOUSE at all hours?! _

_I also regret to inform you that that there is a new man in my life (four-legged, of course) and that you are hereafter relegated to spot Number Two in my heart. His name is Arthur, he's a five years old Shepherd-Pincher mix, and he knows well enough to leave his bitches __outside__! Which is a helluva lot more than I can say for you, you over-endowed hound dog! _

_Before you ask, yes, Arthur gets along quite well with Jamie, Murphy, and the girls. He's already been fixed so there's no worry that he'll try and mount either Jess or June, unlike Murphy (who btw __still__ hasn't worked out he's the smallest of the bunch). And for the record, I still hold __you__ personally responsible for insane Murphy's behavior; you did after all spike his water dish with Energy Jolt the last time you were here._

_In any case, don't you __dare__ get into an accident or get shot down or anything, Brother Dearest. You still owe me a ton of yard work and replanting from Murphy's rampage last month!_

_And see if you can convince this 'Starbuck' of yours to visit as well. I know the dogs would love to meet her._

_All our love and well-stoked rage, _

_Sister Sarah._

Included with the letter were a handful of old-fashioned Polaroids, one each devoted to one of the dogs my sister sheltered. Jamie was a mature Newfoundland pure breed whose considerable frame took up most of the picture, into which he gazed with soulful eyes. Then there was the aforementioned Murphy, a white-haired Cockerpoo who was all nervous energy and shining eyes. The twin greyhounds Jessica and June each had her own picture, both perfect exemples of their breed. Finally there was the newcomer Arthur, who clearly favored his Pincher heritage but had the reassuring musculature of the Shepherd breed.

The last photo of the pile was one of all five dogs surrounding my diminutive sibling, who was waving wildly to the camera. I'd often said the girl would pose at a crime scene and mug for anything with a lens. I was just happy she wasn't giving me 'the finger' this time.

What would she make of what was happening out here, I wondered silently. What kind of world would she and her dogs see built from the arrival of Kara's people?

My thoughts quickly began spinning outwards from there. I was not a religious man by any stretch; my distaste for religion stemming largely from our Catholic upbringing and the over-emphasis on ritual over substance. I knew Kara took her own people's creed seriously, often praying to small idols she'd carved, and was anything but shy about cursing in their names. How would such a people integrate into our world, where beliefs varied as wildly as senses of what constituted 'sensible clothing'?

The juxtaposition of belief and fashion gave me a momentary chuckle, one I sorely needed. Propping my bare feet up on the coffee table, I sat back and let my eyes drift shut for the first time in nearly two days.

My last conscious thought was to wonder how little Aurora would take to the dogs, and vice versa. Sleep claimed me before I could visualize an answer.

Amazingly I slept the full twelve hours prescribed, completely undisturbed by the turmoil outside that full time.

* * *

TBC…immediately!


	29. Chapter 29

**Part 29**

* * *

_**Interrogation of Cylon Prisoner "Leoben Conoy"  
**__**Conducted by civilian delegate Lee Adama  
**_**_(Observed by Staff __Sergeant __Vernar, Colonial Marines)  
_**_**14-Pycees-2042 PC  
**__**Eyes Only Clearance  
**__**Do not Reproduce  
**__**Do not Distribute**_

* * *

_Transcript begins_

Adama: You asked to see me.

Conoy: Hello, Apollo. We've never met. I'm…

Adama: I know who you are.

Conoy: Who am I then?

Adama: A Cylon skin job.

Conoy: I'm more than that.

Adama: Really? In what way?

Conoy: I'm the last of my model.

_(Silence)_

Adama: Really?

Conoy: Sadly so.

Adama: How did that happen?

Conoy: Oh, the usual reasons. In this case, in _this_ cycle of things, I am on the losing side of a religious quarrel.

Adama: Over what? Why?

Conoy: Why what, Major? Oh, that's right. You handed in your wings some time back didn't you? We found that an unexpected development.

Adama: "We"? Who are your contacts in the Fleet?

Conoy: I don't see any buckets of water here. Isn't that standard equipment in these interrogations?

Adama: Do you want it to be?

Conoy: Questions answered with questions, none answering the other. You show much more patience than she ever did, Major.

_(Silence)_

Conoy: So it's true. She really has left all of us behind.

Adama: Captain Thrace is not a subject for discussion.

Conoy: As you wish. She's a closed issue now anyway, given her destiny reached out and swallowed her whole. _(Shuffling)_ What do you wish to know?

Adama: You flew that wreck of a Heavy Raider onto our flight deck and begged to be brought aboard. You specifically asked to see…

Conoy: Kara.

Adama: You didn't know she's dead, did you?

Conoy: She's not dead, Major. She's simply left the rest of us, you and I, behind. You _know_ this.

Adama: She is not a subject of discussion here. You asked to see me. Start talking.

Conoy: What should we talk about, Major? The patterns that play themselves out even now? How her life was written before she was born? How you and I both played our parts in her leaving, itself a promised thing?

_(Violent scuffle)_

_(Conoy begins breathing heavy)_

Conoy: I know, Major. I know how you feel. I know because I feel her loss, too. She's left us behind and there's no way she'll come back now. She's too far downstream to be reached and she's alone there! _All alone! _Ack!

_(Violent scuffle)_

_(Chairs being overturned)_

_(Adama's voice is too low to be clearly recorded)_

Adama: One mo...bout her...don't...you know ab...I wi...lock you...and?

_(Conoy's voice is slightly choked)_

Conoy: Perfectly.

_(Silence)_

_(Chairs being righted)_

Conoy: She's a closed subject now. No more words.

_(Silence)_

Adama: You said you were the last of your model. Are you asking for asylum?

Conoy: No. I am simply here to finish my journey.

Adama: You expect to die here?

Conoy: No. I _will_ die here. At least this way I will stand before God and say I followed the path laid out for me.

Adama: Okay. If you really want to die, why didn't you just space yourself?

Conoy: Because your path is not yet finished.

_(Silence)_

Adama: _My_ path?

Conoy: Yours. I am finished. You are not. Do you believe in your gods, Major?

_(Silence)_

Adama: No.

Conoy: You should. The time when you will make your presence known is coming.

Adama: My…_presence?_

Conoy: The others, both human and Cylon, miss the signs. Laura Roslin is the Dying Mater and Pythia's voice. Your father fancies himself Zeus, but only because there is no one else who sits upon the throne. Even his Hera would not dare try to displace him now. But you…you will do so, and all will thank you for it. Even Zeus will bless you...

Adama: Do you know how insane you sound right now?

Conoy: All this has happened before, and will happen again. The First Hybrid knew this, taught this. It believed it spoke for God. We exiled it, our divine creation; because we believed God _did_ speak through it. Just as the Colonies exiled the life it had created, so did we repeat the cycle.

Adama: Fascinating.

Conoy: But now that has changed, because of you, Apollo.

Adama: How so?

Conoy: You became your father, followed his steps almost to a one, then stopped and took your own path. You have your own power now. You _must_ use _all_ your power and deliver your people to the promised land.

Adama: What the frak are you ranting about?

Conoy: Apollo, the Sun God. The Son of Zeus. The God not only of battle, but also of healing, of negotiation, of colonization, of building.

Adama: Good recitation. But what…

Conoy: Look at your life, Apollo, and tell me you have not done all these things from the time you could first walk.

_(Silence)_

Conoy: The elections you demanded, the prisoners you freed, the coup you stopped, the missions you've planned, the lives you've protected; all that you have done is but prelude to what you _will_ do now.

Adama: So now _I_ have some special destiny?

Conoy: We all have our own destiny, Apollo. Mine was to tutor Aurora sufficiently so she might call the dawn of new history.

Adama: You frakking _tortured_ her. What the hell made her so special to you?

Conoy: What _made_ her so special? That's the right question, Apollo, but asked the wrong way.

Adama: She's a closed subject remember?

Conoy: That I met you at my end, which is now your true beginning, is simply coincidence.

Adama: Or your god's will?

Conoy: Or perhaps God's will.

Adama: Fine. Now that we have all that out of the way, how about we start discussing some _real_ things?

Conoy: Destiny is real, Apollo. It is not what it seems, but it is real.

Adama: Who are your contacts…?

Conoy: Remember my words, Apollo.

Adama: I want names, which ships they're on…

Conoy: Remember yourself.

Adama: I want size and disposition of your fleet…

Conoy: _She _did not listen and destiny swallowed her whole for it.

_(Violent scuffle)_

Adama: Will you shut up about her!

Conoy: I suspect my form was used to convince her to fly into the mandala. How I don't know.

Adama: Shut up!

Conoy: My visage may even still be appearing to her…

Adama: Shut…just shut up and talk!

Conoy: Now who sounds insane, Major?

_(Silence)_

_(Sounds of struggle)_

_(Cell door opens)_

Vernar: Major!

_(Sounds of struggle)_

Conoy: Fare you well, Apollo.

Vernar: Gun!

_(Multiple gunshot; body falls)_

Vernar: Wha…wha…?

_(Silence)_

_(Scuffle)_

Adama: Ack!

Vernar: Major!

_(Conoy's voice is too soft to be properly recorded)_

_(Body falls)_

Adama: Ah…ah…ah…

Vernar: Sir?

Adama: Ah…shit.

Vernar: Did he…did he say something?

Adama: He…he said, uh, 'Aurora'.

_(Transcript ends)_

* * *

TBC…

_Reviews let me know if you guys want this to continue. Please don't be shy! _

_Also, readers may note the above mirrors a similar convresation Lee had with an un-named Priestess in **Event Horizon: Defiance **by setivalen, which can be found here at . If anyone deserves credit for giving Lee a full-blown destiny, its her._


	30. Chapter 30

_**De Author Seez: **Think I've finally figured a few characters out, so please enjoy. Plus for those wondering: no, I had no clue whatsoever the Colonials would actually get their own Cylon Basestar in the series. _Nemesis_ was inspired expressly by The Sidhe's unmatched epic **The Consequences of Not Being Polite. **Check it out if you want to see some brilliant writing, as opposed to my meager offerings. _

_As always, the review button is there to be used. Please use it, even if only to tell me this all sucks! See y'all next week._

* * *

**Part 30**

**Battlestar _Galactica _  
Port Landing Deck**

**+13:50:05 **

_**(Richards)**_

The hanger deck was its normal riot of activity by the time my escort and I arrived. We actually entered on the gantry walkway above it, which gave us a clear view of the hustle and bustle, which had been noticeably absent when I'd first arrived aboard a mere eight hours ago.

Then again, given how I'd been filling those eight hours, another Colonial Battlestar could have been built from scratch and I probably would have missed it.

The chaotic activity below was a perfect mirror to my own thoughts. It had been close to a day and a half since Case MOSES had been declared, and I had yet made even a preliminary vocal report to the Secretariat concerning our newly arrived cousins. Irene was probably crowing for my head at this point, if only to beat the General Assembly to it. Besides, there was Brussels and Beijing to think about; they surely had reps of their own en route.

More immediately, I had no idea how to get the distribution of supplies organized and running now that the EU's container ships were here. As the senior civilian authority present, that was my responsibility if nothing else. I had delegated it off to Avery-Hunter and his staff out of pure panic and hadn't dared ask about it since; for all I knew the EU crews were charging the Colonials for deliveries in pints of blood.

Okay, it probably wasn't that bad, but given the economic bent with which Brussels approached everything it might well have been. My gut nevertheless went cold every time I thought about inquiring on how everythingwas going.

To top it all off, I had made that dumb-ass promise over the wireless that we would settle everyone in Wisconsin. _Wisconsin._ True, that was one of the sites the Principles Committee had discussed in the abstract once Kara had gotten a command of spoken English; but I hadn't been kidding when I'd also said no one involved – Kara included – ever thought we'd actually have to implement those plans. Hell, I didn't know if there were even any plans actually written down anywhere. All I'd ever jotted down at those meetings were some vaguely human doodles doing naughty things to each other.

I'd be lucky if I still had my damned job by the end of the day. For the first time in four months, I actually found the prospect troubling.

Dry washing my face, I realized I didn't even _know_ what day it actually was. The only other time that would happen was when I was down in 'The Pit' at Nellis, searching the relic for hieroglyphics.

* * *

_**Twenty-one Months Ago  
**_

**Nellis Air Base  
Storage Site X-Ray  
"The Pit"**

**1201 Hours GMT  
**  
Thrace had been remarkably patient as our convoy approached the solitary blockhouse that marked the entrance of The Pit. She seemed more taken with staring out into the surrounding desert than with demanding answers to her often-sensible questions. The silence wasn't entirely welcome. Rear-Admiral Rice kept giving me a nervous looks. Our driver simply kept his eyes fixed straight ahead.

"**Everything alright, Captain?"** I asked her in her own tongue. Rice shot me another look, not liking my small breach of protocol. It had been agreed we should converse in English so she **c**ould get used to speaking it. I shrugged Ted's displeasure off and kept my attention on Thrace.

"Yeah, fine," she muttered in accented English. They were the first words we'd heard from her that day. Not the most reassuring thing she could have said either, given her evident distraction.

She suddenly spun and glared at me. "What was that?"

"I asked if everything was alright."

My calm tone apparently worked on her. "Uh, yeah. Sorry. The desert here is just…um…"

"Yeah, I get the same way out here. You start to...see things...after awhile."

"Eh?"

"Ablation." Thrace stared dumbly at me. "The emptiness makes your mind stop and you start tosee stuff."

"Oh." I didn't elaborate that it was a common form of displacement trauma found among survivors of urban warfare or other such disasters. The jury was still out whether Thrace would turn out to be the sort who got fixated on some religious goal or another; none of us had any idea what we'd do with her if that was the case.

This trip out to The Pit had actually been Erica's idea. The interminable Ms. Tata had, in a burst of intuition, declared Thrace was suffering common variety 'cabin fever' and needed to breathe some 'fresh, free air'. There was no way any of us were letting her off the base right then, so The Pit was the next best thing.

I hadn't been out there in the three weeks since Thrace landed literally in our collective laps. Consequently, I'd forgotten what a long drive it was to get there. We could have flown by chopper, which doubtless would have been our guest's preference if not for her presently unpredictable nausea. Dr. Neill had been emphatic that until we got that under control, we shouldn't take the risk.

Admiral Rice couldn't have been more pleased as it gave him the chance to observe Thrace in closer quarters. We'd left Wisdom back at Nellis itself, just to cut down on the tension a bit. My presence was a no-brainer and Paulson was riding shotgun in the Hummer behind us, just in case she had a seizure or stubbed her toe on a rock.

Our two-vehicle convoy ultimately arrived at its destination**. **The blockhouse entrance was set at the base of what looked like a low hill that was otherwise the only feature breaking the monotony of the desert. We pulled up and disembarked. Thrace squinted at the harsh sunlight, gratefully accepting the spare sunglasses I handed her, then followed Rice and our driver toward the blockhouse. Paulson was hurrying to catch up with them.

I paused and glanced upwards, wondering how many spy satellites were watching us right then. Scuttlebutt had it the EU had retasked about a dozen of its orbiting hardware hoping to catch sight of our _House Guest_. There was no word about how many Chinese satellites had been similarly had their orbits altered for the same reason.

Turning from that, I moved to catch up with the others who were now waiting at the entrance. Given I had the most hours logged in The Pit since its construction, everyone deferred to me for the entrance code. I tapped it in and entered the cargo elevator car that was revealed as the blockhouse door slipped aside. The rest of our party filed in calmly and the elevator closed as I hit the button for "Level One"; I figured there was no reason to spook Thrace more than she likely already was.

As the elevator shuddered and descended slowly, Thrace finally asked the question that had doubtlessly been burning in her since we'd left Nellis behind. "What is down here?"

A look passed between Rice, Neill and me before answering, the debate being who would say what. Naturally, it fell to me.

Unfortunately, my linguistic ability chose that moment to abandon me. "About twenty years ago we, uh, found...dug up, actually...its, uh, um..." I scratched the back of my head, trying to come up with something simple enough that I wouldn't have to resort to Thrace's native language to communicate.

I was saved further embarrassment by the elevator shuddering to a halt and the door to our backs opening. Rice, Neill and the driver all practically fell out of the car and onto the gantry walkway it opened to. Thrace followed a moment later, sauntering out several steps before stopping short at the sight before us. I brought up the rear, carefully watching her reactions.

"**What the frak is that?" **she breathed, unconsciously slipping to her native tongue.

"We were hoping you could tell us, Captain," was my reply, looking across the hull of the relic I'd devoted the last decade trying to understand.

Intellectually I understood its dimensions were finite and measurable. But just standing there, beside the hull of a ship 4,000 years old yet looking completely intact and serviceable? It may have been just six thousand meters from bow to stern and another eight hundred meters tall, but that was more than enough to dwarf us all.

When the relic had been fully excavated out of the Alaskan mud, it had been transported over three thousand miles across the continent and placed here, an artificial canyon that had been blasted out of the desert for that purpose alone and multiple stories of walkways and support struts built around it. The Pit itself was covered over by a mass of canvas that allowed diffuse sunlight in from above, and a network of mercury vapor lamps (enough supposedly to light up all of Las Vegas for a year) at night.

I still marveled at the engineering involved in such a feat, often wondering how such a project had been completed with so little notice by the world at large.

At that moment, I was more curious about Thrace's reaction. She was staring at the relic with a tightly furrowed brow, as if trying to place it from something in her memory. At least that's what I hoped for; in the three weeks since she had awakened we hadn't tried to probe how clear her actual memories were.

"How…old…?" she asked, eyes raking the hull towering over us. She waked across the gantry without the least fear or unsteadiness, which was more than could be said for most of us. Vertigo was a not an uncommon occurrence here, even for me, yet her footing was as sure and steady as if she were on solid bedrock at sea level.

I answered her again. "We estimate at least four thousand years. At least that's how old the soil and rock was where it was found." I gave her a moment to let that sink in. "Do you recognize it, Captain?"

"No…yes…" was Thrace's muttered answer.

"Oh, very helpful," was my own. I suspected we wouldn't get anything substantive from her in the near future. This didn't bother me as much as how distracted she appeared as she walked along the gantry. The last thing any of us wanted was for her to go tumbling over the railing somehow; it reportedly happened from time to time despite the fact said railing reached up to the average person's armpits. I usually wore safety tethers when I came down here.

Carefully coming up behind Thrace, I attached such a tether to her belt and the other end to the rail at hip-level. She didn't appear to notice my proximity, which had me wondering about the wisdom of this whole exercise. Thrace was normally hyper-alert and tractable as a cat on caffeine.

We all stood there, watching her stand there and stare at the relic. No one, myself included, dared break the silence that descended on us all.

* * *

_**Present Day**_

"Mr. Secretary, Sir?" My still-unnamed escort's prompting was enough to pull me back to the present. For show, I rubbed the bridge of my nose and muttered to myself in English.

"Getting too old…"

"Sir?"

"Nothing, Private…"

"Corporal, Sir."

"Sorry. Nothing important, Corporal." The yawn I worked to suppress was _not_ for show. "That the Admiral down there?" I asked superfluously, gesturing towards a familiar figure below.

"Looks like, Sir," Corporal No-name confirmed, equally superfluously. I resisted the urge to give him a look and instead headed to the stairs leading down to the deck. Somehow I managed to descend without tripping up, loosing my footing or embarrassing myself further.

"Admiral Adama," I called out, approaching him as casually as my quick pace would allow.

The Admiral seemed genuinely surprised to see me there. "Mr. Secretary. We were wondering where you got to."

"You did offer me the run of _Galactica_, Admiral," I reminded him, amazed at how blithe I sounded about it. Likely as not I'd committed a half-dozen - at least - breaches of diplomatic etiquette over the last six hours. Then again, who was going to complain under current circumstances?

"Hm," was Adama's only response. No doubt, he would personally debrief the Corporal and hear all my sins in detail. Funny how I hadn't thought about that beforehand. I used to be sharper about stuff like that.

"I did look in on Dogsville to make sure the EU staff are behaving themselves." Adama's frown deepened, leading me to hastily add "Nothing to worry about there. I just want to confirm they didn't have some additional orders that might complicate our work here."

"Additional orders of what sort?" The Admiral didn't sound especially angry, although his shoulders tensed just enough to tell me he was concerned. Why the hell couldn't I just shut up about stuff like this?

"The Euro-Combine tends to be very...mercantile...in its dealings with everyone."

"Mercantile?"

"Think rug and jewelry merchants from Tauron."

Adama actually winced at this. "They aren't going to try bargaining with us...?"

"No," I shook my head. "The UN has already paid for the cargo here. I was really just checking for my own peace of mind. You'll find I tend to sweat over little things like this."

"I'll keep that in mind." That seemed to close the subject to his satisfaction. Well _almost_ closed it, as he saw fit to add, "I wanted to compliment you on the efficiency of your personnel. Major Agathon has informed me the distribution has been seamless thus far."

"Eh, thank you." I looked around, seeing a few TDF flight suits intermixed among EU crewmembers shifting containers with the Red Cross or the wheat-and-bean X to transport pallets, the EU crew directing or towing said pallets off the deck and into _Galactica_ proper like so much clockwork.

Yeah, looking at with innocent eyes you'd think we all knew what we were doing. It made a nice counterpoint compared to the relief efforts I barely survived in India right before being moved to Nellis. This gave me the perfect excuse to get myself away from there without looking like a complete chickenshit (or whatever the Colonial equivalent was).

"With your permission, Admiral, I should return to _Olympus_..." I paused, thinking how blasphemous that must sounded under the circumstances. "I better get back there...to make sure things continue to go smoothly," I finished lamely.

Adama apparently bought it, giving me an accepting nod. Small mercies. At least he wasn't pressing me to account for my movements after that embarrassment of a press conference. This thought prompted an admission out of me before I could stop myself.

"Uh, Admiral? Doubtless you'll hear it from your Corporal over there, but I saw your Cylon prisoner on B Deck." Ah, well. Irene always swore my honesty streak was going to be the death of me.

Before Adama could order that I be clamped in irons for this, I stuck my hands into my pockets and sauntered off to the nearest Raptor that was powering up. "You might want to talk to your XO about her," I called back before climbing aboard the scout craft, the ECO too surprised to stop me and closing the hatch automatically behind me. I settled myself into the back seat and caught a final look at Adama, who looked ready to halt the Raptor's departure. He made no move however as we ascended to the outer deck.

Only once the scout craft was off the _Galactica's _deck and actually flying through space, only then did I let go of the nervous breath I'd been holding. The pilot turned after a few minutes of flight and asked, "Where to, _Mister_ Secretary?"

His aggrieved tone caused me to look up. "Ah, Lieutenant Phippen. Good to see you again."

Turtle simply asked "Destination? _Sir_?"

I decided against trying further small talk; just as well as I couldn't think of anything worth saying. "_Olympus_, Lieutenant. All speed."

"Aye, _Sir_."

* * *

**Battlestar _Olympus  
_Portside Hanger Deck**

**+14:30:08**

I'd meant to exit the Raptor as unobtrusively as possible, even entertaining hopes of getting back to my assigned cabin without being noticed. Sadly, such plans were derailed by the presence of Admiral Rice waiting for us, the XO and a brace of Marines behind him. None of them looked especially pleased to be there.

Having no excuse to linger inside, especially given how chill the atmosphere within the ship was, I politely waited for the ECO to pop the hatch. When he did so, I turned back to Turtle and said, "Thanks for the ride back, Ell-Tee." I went so far as to give him a polite salute, which was returned sharply. Rather than dwell on whether this was a good or bad thing, I hauled myself out of the Colonial scout and descended to meet my people.

"Permission to return aboard, Admiral?" I requested as protocol directed, not quite able to meet his eyes.

"Granted, Mr. Secretary," Rice nodded, his voice flat as I'd ever heard it. Was this what the proverbial calm before the tempest and typhoon and every tsunami felt like? As if I weren't anxious enough, he added, "Welcome back. The Secretary General and Assembly are awaiting your preliminary report."

"You're enjoying this," I accused quietly.

"Not in the least, Mr. Secretary. If you'll follow me?" Having no other immediate options and cognizant of the many armed Marines present, I did exactly as bade, trailing behind Ted with Callisto and the Marines bringing up the rear. Crewmembers were quick to move out of our way, more likely because of the intensely blank look Ted was wearing than anything else.

"I take it you heard the wireless broadcasts," I ventured as we walked.

That same flat tone answered "Yes, Mr. Secretary. We did."

"Both of them?"

"Yes, Mr. Secretary."

Our destination wasn't CIC as I'd expected, but rather Conference Alpha. "Deja vu, all over again," I mused as Callisto shut the hatch behind me, leaving just Rice and myself to the very large, presently empty room.

"You want some cheese with that whine?" Ted all but snarled. "Speaking of cheese...Wisconsin?"

I shrugged with casualness I most definitely did _not_ feel right then. "I had to tell them something." Looking around for a coffee urn allowed me to avoid his gaze.

"No you didn't," Rice argued back. "I mean..._Wisconsin_?"

"I've got a weakness for dairy products?"

Ted merely groaned and moved to stand at the continuous "U" table, shaking his head all the while. The tri-phone unit sat on the branch closest to us, as was doubtless intended. I refused to give up my quixotic quest for coffee and so let Ted do the honors of keying in the proper codes to Secure Facilities 'Babel' and 'Babylon'. I hoped it wouldn't be any more than them as I wasn't up for a probing interrogation by 'Crystal Palace' as well.

All too quickly, a voice I hadn't heard for a blissful week cried out. _"Anyone receiving this? Hello! Is there anyone there?"_

I took a shallow breath and stated loudly, "This is Secretary of State Benjamin Richards. I challenge: Paris on the Seine."

_"This is the Secretary General. I authenticate: London on the Thames." _The normally sonorous voice of Irene Bernice Whinterhill always took a nasal, higher-pitched tone over the comms. This alone was one of the many reasons I avoided having to attend these long-distance conference calls in the first place.

"Who else is there, Irene? Baker? Chan-wu?

_"Li will be attending shortly. Undersecretaries Cornwell and Seidel are with us from Babel. Secretary Baker is still under sedation." _The Sec-Gen paused, then asked _"Ben, is it...is it really them?"_

"Yeah, it is _them_," I confirmed, placing equal emphasis on the pronoun. "You remember those hypothetical re-settlement scenarios we discussed out at Nellis last year? The ones Starbuck was positively emphatic be on the agenda?"

_"Yes?"_

"Well I _really_ hope someone was taking notes, because it's _not_ hypothetical any longer. It's real."

A breath later and I felt confident enough to continue; my voice dropped an octave. "I also made a couple...unadvised and un-authenticated statements to the Quorum and a number of reporters who were there at the time."

_"Like...what?"_

"I stated we would begin...settling their people in...Wisconsin."

There, I'd said it. Now all I could do was sit back let the yelling commence.

TBC...

* * *


	31. Chapter 31

__

(Back to the pilots. Don't read this at work or in public, unless you do read it at work or in public, in which case I disavow any consequences for doing so. You'll see why.)

* * *

**Part 31**

**Battlestar **_**Olympus**_

**+22:50:37 **

_**(**_**Starbuck**_**/Apollo)**_

The metal of the floor was cold against my bare back and ass. The sweat that had condensed on us cooled quickly, making me shiver slightly. This only further fired my already shot nerves, causing me to shudder even harder.

I would have wept for joy if my ribs were not being crushed by an equally shuddering body.

At that moment, I could safely say I had never hated Lee Adama more in my entire life.

Two and a half years and he hadn't lost his touch.

* * *

_Two years. That's how long since I'd lived without remembering I was still alive. _

_Two hours. That's all she needed to bring me back to life._

_It took all that was left of it my strength__not to choke the life out of her._

_Instead, I just lay there atop her, secure in the knowledge that this once she could run away from me._

* * *

What the frak had we just done? I wanted to laugh at the thought, which rather answered itself. The problem was Lee was heavy enough that I could only manage to breathe.

At least he hadn't let himself go to pot like last time. He was actually a little on the lean side now, but then he'd likely been subsisting on that algae mush. I doubt anyone could get fat on that crap.

Back to the original question: what the _frak_ had we just done?

Other than, just possibly, given the girls another sibling, that is.

* * *

_I cradle her to me. My single fantasy made real._

_Is it possible this was just a fantasy? Could I just be lying in Life Station, dying of oxygen starvation and living this out in my head?_

_What would that mean for my father? For the Fleet? Amazingly, I couldn't give a flying frak._

_All I cared was that Kara Thrace was wrapped around me, and I around her. _

_And if this was my dream while dying, there were worse ways to expire._

* * *

The...the frakker! The absolute gall of Lee-frakking-Adama hadn't diminished in the slightest.

I said, "Let's go collect the girls." What did he do?

Forced the door shut and kissed me, of course.

Naturally I was too shocked to tell him to frak off and that it wasn't the time and I sure as hell wasn't about to have a...a reunion with him in a supply closet.

So he kept kissing me.

* * *

_I didn't mean to do more than just kiss her. Just one kiss. Just to convince myself I wasn't dreaming.._

_That alone should have earned me a right-hook to the chin. Even better proof it was really her, though, strangely, it wasn't forthcoming._

_Maybe it was pure shock on her part...our part. Both of us too surprised by all this to really react as we normally would._

_It was the only excuse I could conceive for the fact, I was doing some deep tongue exploration... and that she was allowing it._

* * *

I would claim 'Bacchanalia amnesty'. Leoben dancing me like a puppet. Complete insanity. Something, anything, _other_ than lucid thought.

To my dying breath, I would never admit I consciously, deliberately, began tearing the buttons of his shirt open. I did not even bother worrying about his tie; I just started pulling.

The frakker chose that moment to move closer, making the mechanics of undoing buttons infinitely more difficult than plotting FTL jumps.

The moan that rumbled out of me at the first touch of his skin to my fingers is nothing other than me trying to breath around that oh-so-talented tongue.

If I had any sense, I'd have bitten that tongue.

_If_ I had _any_ sense, which at this point I didn't.

* * *

_I could always say "she started it", given it was her pulling my shirt open._

_Not that I had objected, or attempted to stop her._

_If I had any sense, I'd have stopped this right there. _

_If I had any sense, I'd have kept my hands away from her belt._

_And I certainly wouldn't have begun tugging at the buttons of her jacket either._

_If I had the tiniest bit of reason left, that is._

* * *

Reason deserted me the second he managed to work my belt loose. The buttons of my jacket were goners a couple of seconds after that.

Not that I was idle either. Well, my hands weren't anyway.

It was his turn to groan as I cupped him below his beltline.

I resisted the urge to squeeze, but only just.

Only because he'd pulled my jacket off and was making equally short work of my bra.

I kind of lost it after that.

* * *

_The growl that rumbled through her was enough to make me pull away. I pulled back; ready to meet the rage that should have lit those perfect hazel eyes._

_Something equally feral was there. She gave me no time to contemplate it, pulling my own jacket off and grabbing at my shirt, pulling me to her no less desperately._

_Our tongues dueled equally. Fumbling efforts by either of us with the other's clothes did not interrupt this. _

_Where fingers found hold on bare flesh, our fingernails left welts. Some lighter than others._

_With a final effort of purest will, I pulled away from her again and almost completely out of her grip. I stumbled slightly, angrily kicking my trousers and shoes away._

_Her hunter's eyes, shining a still, fixed upon me as her perfect lips curved into hungry smile. _

_The sight alone was nearly enough to have me burst forward. _

_But she moved first._

* * *

I knew the frakker too well. He would come close to his so-called senses that he paused and pulled back. I could see the first flash of doubt there.

Lee's principles without fail squirmed back between us. Any second and he'd be running out of the room, modesty and position be damned, all because he couldn't handle a straight frak between us.

Yeah, right.

I toed off my boots and all but leapt onto him, knocking his knees so we collapsed to the floor. I straddled him just above his hips, entirely too close to the aforementioned beltline.

I wasn't willing to risk letting him run, not anymore. As an object lesson, I quickly reached back and cupped him again.

This time I squeezed just enough to get his attention.

* * *

_I groaned again, her teasing fingers nearly undoing me._

_Then I snarled and managed to sit up enough to pull those oh-so-talented fingers off._

_I pinned her arms behind her back with one hand and steadied myself with the other._

_My lips and teeth found one stone-hard nipple._

"_Motherfrakker!" she ground out, arching into me as I left my mark._

* * *

It took some struggle, but I got my hands free. He'd moved to the other breast by then and I wrapped both arms around his head, keeping him firmly in place.

I swore silently I'd kill him if he left me hanging much longer.

My curses hissed into his thick hair, promising the wrath of all Twelve Lords of Kobol and few others besides, were intermixed with the tears that welled.

I hated this man, the unspoken center and focus of my life for as long as I'd drawn breath.

I hated the hold he had on me.

I hated the fire his touch lit on my skin and in my soul.

I hated that the gods had demanded we be separated for so long.

Most of all, I hated that he made it impossible to say the words that would release us both.

What happened next was inevitable. It might as well have been decreed by Pallas herself.

* * *

_We weren't humans anymore. We were animals, primal and unfettered._

_Clothing was pulled aside and discarded. _

_We savaged each other, fitting together as perfectly as if we were born so._

_Neither of us cried out. Our voices could not have matched the raw energies driving us._

_There was no control, no gentleness, no caution._

_Gods help and damn me, I needed this, needed her like this._

_I'd never needed anything more._

* * *

We made no sound the whole while.

I wondered if we even breathed.

Certainly, I was beyond exhausted by the time he collapsed atop me, panting and twitching.

I didn't dare close my eyes for fear this would be nothing but a dream.

* * *

_Exhausted as I was, Morpheus barred me from sleep. Or so I thought for a moment._

_I wanted to laugh. When had I started believing in the gods and goddesses? _

_When I had one in my arms on the metal floor of a battlestar not of Colonial construction, I supposed._

_It felt like my bones were made of lead, yet I raised myself upright enough to meet her shinning eyes._

"_Hate me?" I breathed._

* * *

"Until the day we die."

* * *

"_Fine with me." _

* * *

I brought our lips together, chaste and calm this time, sealing the bargain.

Letting my head fall back to the floor, I shivered but only from the cold.

The shock, the magnitude of what just happened, would come later. I reached for something mundane and manageable to hold to next.

"We need to collect the girls."

* * *

_I could see what she was doing clear as day. All this has happened before: at the Academy, Colonial Day, New Caprica, the temple on Galactica._

_Damn me to Tartarus if I let it happen again._

_I quickly shifted myself so I was literally sitting on her hips, keeping her prone._

"_How are we going to work the logistics of this?"_

* * *

"Excuse me?"

Now I was shaking from something other than the cold of the floor.

The frakker kept me distracted by running his hands up and down my arms.

* * *

"_How are we going to handle having three children on two different ships?"_

_My voice was patient and my tone even. _

_My eyes told her we weren't going to do the same dance anymore._

* * *

"I…I can't leave _Olympus_, Lee. Ben…Secretary Richards and Admiral Rice won't let me."

It was a truth that rang hollow, even to my own ears.

"I can't go aboard _Galactica,_" I added, my voice suddenly soft and weak.

* * *

"_Can't or won't?"_

_It frankly didn't matter to me what the reasons were. I'd claim familiar rights based on the First Covenant if I had to. She'd kill me afterwards for telling everyone, but at least I'd die happy._

_Not that dying was on my agenda, not any longer._

_I frowned at the one possible complication that might arise._

"_Are you bound to anyone? To Secretary Richards…?"_

* * *

"What? No! Gods, Ben's so hung up on a dead woman he's…no."

I tried to sit up, but Lee chose that moment to push down, pinning my arms to the floor.

Oh gods. I suddenly realized how serious he was about this.

Why didn't the thought scare me as much as it used to?

"Ben is a friend, Lee. Nothing else, I swear. And no, I'm not…bound…to anyone here." I shifted a little, cramps starting to form in my lower back.

"Are you going to let me sit up?"

* * *

_I shook my head, grinning. "Not just yet. Not until we've worked this out." I bored into her eyes. _

"_No more running, Kara. You try flying off; I will be on your six. You die on us; I'll be right behind Charon's barge, swimming across Styx to drag you back."_

_She looked at me, eyes wide at my audacity. She even looked…scared._

_Hades, _I_ was scared of me and what I would do right then. _

* * *

He'd have done it, too, whatever it took. I could see it clearly how he would wrest of us free of the Fates with his bare hands. He'd throw down with Zeus if that's what it took.

He'd do it, and I…I would let him. Or join him doing it.

The images this conjured nearly had me laughing at the blasphemy. It was either that or I'd start crying.

I knew I could tell him "no" and he'd stop this. I could tell him to leave and he'd walk away.

I might as well try telling my heart to stop beating or my lungs stop demanding air.

The gods decreed I was "special". I'd never asked to be so but there it was.

So what did that make Lee, I wondered.

* * *

"_Okay," I breathed. It took some doing, but I calmed enough to come up with a decent plan. _

"_You won't come back, so I'll let the President and Admiral know the girls and I are moving aboard _Olympus._"_

* * *

"Are you out of your frakking mind, Adama?" I growled. "Get off me!"

The look he pinned me with stopped my struggles and slaughtered all objections.

* * *

"_You came to me, twice, after your Viper blew up. What does that tell you?"_

_She stopped struggling, breathing hard and looking ready to collapse._

_I steeled myself for the rejection that would surely kill me on the spot. I idly wondered if the gods would welcome or damn me._

* * *

"I'll…you tell your father and the President, I'll tell Ben and Rice."

I had nearly 11 and a half stone of self-righteous Adama crushing me. So why did it feel like I'd just thrown a battlestar off my chest?

* * *

"_You…you mean it?"_

_The bitch hadn't lost her ability to stump me. Even when I was on top._

* * *

"Get off me, Apollo," I moaned tiredly.

He did so, crouching carefully beside me and watching with equal care as I sat up. My back hadn't felt like this since I'd hit my third trimester. I promised myself he'd pay for that later.

Chewing my lip, I debated whether to kiss those pouting lips of his or blacken his right eye. Both held distinct temptations.

Instead of either however, I started groping for my underwear and uniform. "I get to paint it," I threw over my shoulder as I struggled my bra back on.

His confused look was almost too adorable by half.

* * *

"_Paint…what?"_

_Her glance at me was directed downwards. I unconsciously closed my legs together protectively._

_Then she laughed. Her first, real laugh._

_It was the most beautiful sound I'd ever heard._

* * *

"The porch swing," I amended, with a chuckle. "_And_ the house."

* * *

"_The…porch swing?"_

_I stared at her dumbly, then remembered our beer-soaked daydreams from years ago._

"_Oh."_

* * *

"Yeah, 'oh'." She rolled her eyes and added, "And the whole house."

* * *

_I suddenly had a terrible image of modest house on the seaside, its walls and porch swing colored the most eye-numbing mixtures of neon yellow, blue and green imaginable._

"_Okay, fine."_

* * *

"Okay, fine," I echoed, doing up the remaining buttons on my jacket. "Frak," I muttered, finding two of them had popped off. I had to search for my pants as well.

I eyed Lee again, who was still crouching there, watching me. "Get your clothes on, Apollo," I ordered, not fighting the grin that came.

* * *

_She grinned. That smart-ass grin and the wink that came with it._

_That's when I knew it was her, that this was real._

_Then I realized what we'd done and what she'd said._

_I was on my feet and spinning her into my arms, again._

_This time I was well aware of where this would go the instant our lips me. _

_We both did, and didn't even try to fight it. _

* * *

He grabbed me and kissed me again.

I pulled back, trying to be outraged. Then I saw his eyes.

"Frak it," I growled, and pulled him back in.

The porch swing could wait.

TBC…

* * *

_**De Author Seez: **well, there you have it: my first and likely only attempt at writing Pilot!Sex. Liked it, hated it, got you fired from your job? The review button is waiting!_

_The agreement about who gets to "paint the porch swing" can be credited to zefire2's "Departure", which can be found over on the Beyond Insane LiveJournal community (April 4th, 2008). Check it out._


	32. Chapter 32

_(Time to rest and reflect a bit.)_

* * *

**Part 32**

**Battlestar _Galactica  
_Cabin of Admiral William Adama**

**+23:30:09 **

_**(Roslin)**_

"And you have no idea where they are, Mr. Secretary?" I didn't try to hide my skepticism at Richards' claim that both Lee and Kara had just…vanished aboard _Olympus._

_"We've got what crew there is available searching, but as yet we haven't found them."_

"This is...a little disturbing, Mr. Secretary."

_"Not nearly as disturbing as your pulling this little stunt in the first place, Madam President."  
_  
Before I could take offense at either the comment or tone, Bill piped up, "You'll recall, Mr. Secretary, it was at my direction that the Delegate came to Olympus to see Colonel Thrace."

_"And I'm to believe you did this without consulting President Roslin?"  
_  
I could only share a deeply chagrined look with Bill. Richards was no fool, clearly.

_"I...apologize for my tone, Madame President, Admiral."_ There was sigh that sounded beyond pure exhaustion. _"It's just...well; Kara's made a daily habit of cursing the name 'Lee Adama' for over the past year."  
_  
"Let me guess, since Aurora's birth?" I queried.

_"From the minute she went into active labor,"_ Richards confirmed. _"She gotten pretty, well, graphic about it."_

I rubbed by the bridge of my nose, trying to imagine how Kara could manage to work colorful invectives about Lee into her daily conversation. It proved surprisingly easy. "So I take, Mr. Secretary, your concern isn't for Colonel Thrace's safety?"

"_I asked the Admiral if I should worry some hours back. He assured me that wasn't the case. I am now asking _you_, Madam President, if it is."_

Bill took to staring at the wall, clearly not wanting to give me any cues that might come back to haunt us. My own eyes drifted up to the photo I saw hanging over his head, the one I'd unintentionally shot when he'd wakened me from a troubled sleep. He had had me keep an automatic at hand for nearly a month after the Sadeim's attack and I had been all but barricaded in his cabin. It was really more for his peace of mind than my own, given I had never handled a weapon before in my life and only barely knew which end the bullets came out of.

We'd never spoken about how close I'd come to hitting him with that wild shot, never mind that I'd managed to decapitate his image in the photo. We'd never cracked a joke or even mentioned the whole incident in the years since; I doubt even Lee knew about it and suspected Bill always blamed himself for it.

These musing didn't provide me an answer to Richards' original question however. Was Lee a danger to Kara, or vice versa?

Well, apart from 'the Dance' where they'd beaten each other to a literal pulp, I'd never heard either of them going out of their way to deliberately injure the other. The time she shot him during that hostage mess on Cloud 9, according to the after-action report, was a 'friendly fire' accident. And Lee reportedly bloodied her nose on the hanger deck sometime after the first Colonial Day celebration; I never found out what _that_ was about.

Did marrying completely different people because you were angry at or scared of the one you were really in love with qualify as a deliberate injury or just plain insult?

Gods, but my head ached trying to wrap my mind around Kara still being alive. Bill had related his own reaction towards her, which I didn't blame him for. Lords of Kobol forgive me, but I'd never have believed it if it were anyone else telling me, even with the photos he'd brought back. I was no less surprised that Kara had apparently brushed it off, even if Richards had not, than I was by her refusal to leave the _Olympus_.

Just as well, given how...unsettled things were within the Fleet lately. I really wished we could have gotten a better line on where Baltar and his people had vanished.

Then there was Lee to consider. I'd gotten rather used to Lee being my main functionary on the Quorum the last year. Thinking on it, however, I realized just how, well, _disconnected,_ Lee had actually been acting since...the Ionian Nebula. Even after I had approved his adoption of the girls, he'd been the dutiful professional and father-figure, but really nothing more.

I couldn't begin to imagine how Bill must be feeling about it all. His silence was therefore perfectly understandable.

Dear gods, to the point I truly hadn't put the slightest stock in Lee's claims of visions; more the hypocrite me, especially with _who_ started visiting after I'd nearly ventilated his father's head.

My rumination, inconclusive as it proved, didn't take but a minute. I noted there were some rustling sounds coming from the other end of the wireless, which at least partially explained Richards's temporary silence. My hopes that silence would continue a little longer were unfortunately dashed when the Terran called _"Madam President?"_

"I was just...organizing my thoughts, Mr. Secretary."

_"Please don't tell me I've just made Aurora an orphan," _he asked plainly.

"Who?" I prevaricated, desperately needing a few more moments to think.

_"I'm quite sure Admiral Adama has already appraised you about _that_, Ma'am," _Richards pressed. There was more rustling on his end and some muttered words in their unfamiliar language. The tone was anything but encouraging.

No answer to his original question coming to mind, I decided to do a bit of pushing myself. "Mr. Secretary? Is something wrong there?"

But Richards wasn't one to be re-directed so easily. _"We'll come to that in a moment, Ma'am. I rather need some assurance concerning Colonel Thrace right now."_

"Very well," I growled, momentarily frustrated as my less than reliable gut forming my words from there. "I have _no_ idea how Lee will react to her. Those two have alternately clung to each other or left the other in traction. No-one can predict which way they'll jump, especially now that there are young children involved."

Bill broke in, asking, "Speaking of the children, Mr. Secretary, I'm presuming they're somewhere secure?"

_"Very. Kara retained presence of mind enough to direct them to Conference Blue, which is usually used for diplomatic functions. Plus Lieutenant Mahn is with them, so security's taken care of."_

"I believe Paya has a lung condition…"

"_Our CMO already checked her out. Seems she has a persistent cold or something. Lieutenant Mahn knows to contact him should she even suspect it's worse than that."_

"Good news," Bill muttered, neither looking nor sounding placated.

I moved to fill the empty air. "So, Mr. Secretary. Are you satisfied Colonel Thrace and Representative Adama are in no immediate danger?"

"_Not in the slightest, Madam President,"_ he replied bluntly, and then sighed tiredly. _"But I'm also realistic enough to see none of us have any control over what those two do or don't do to each other for the moment. I am going to have our crew continue to search for them, but only insofar as it doesn't interrupt our re-supply operations. _

"_Speaking of which, how are things playing out on your end? Any negative rumblings or such I should worry about?"_

I could see Bill was as grateful as I was for the change in subject. "None that have come to us," I stated after Bill shook his head. "It seems to be smooth going so far."

"_Small relief,"_ Richards said. _"We've got another container ship on the way, and the Chinese have chipped in a repair vessel. They should be jumping into range within the next eight hours or so."_

Much as I would have preferred avoiding the subject, this brought up a critical point that needed addressing. "You're being exceedingly generous, Mr. Secretary. Does the UN expect any kind of repayment for this aid?"

Richards took a moment before responding. _"I was wondering when this would come up."_ He sounded tired all over again as he said this, but I didn't apologize. We needed to know precisely what these people were expecting of us, and more importantly _from_ us.

"_I can tell you that the UN is not expecting any kind of material repayment for any aid we provide. The Chinese and Euros might be a different story, but I think you're fine for the time being."_

I knew Richards was trying to be reassuring. Unfortunately, the effort fell a little short. "You refer to 'material repayment', Mr. Secretary. What other sorts do you have in mind?" Perhaps I was simply over-tired, but the unhappy possibility we'd be called into some kind of indentured servitude instantly came to mind. There were distinct downsides to knowing so much about Colonial history, among them the sad reality that we were a truly frakked up and barely-civilized bunch way back when and that slavery was a veritable (and sometimes venerated) institution on several of our worlds.

"_It's not what I myself have in mind I assure you, Ma'am. And I promise you the UN is not going to stand for anything outrageous or exploitive."_

"Like slavery?" I asked, wanting a clear answer one way or the other.

"_Especially that! Why would you…ah. Ah, I see where you're going. Sorry I haven't made it clearer. Look, Laura, at the very worst you'll be asked for are licenses to elements of your shipbuilding and engine designs for mass production. Your mining and refinery vessels might likewise be hired for contract work..."_

"Construction and hired by who, Ben?"

_"Some of our member countries, and likely a couple of the other major power blocs."_

"I take it those would be this 'Euro-Combine' and 'Chy-nees' you've referred to?"

_"The very same."_

"I trust we'll be able to meet with them in the near future, as we're going to be settling on Earth and all. You recall you stated this to the press…"

_"Believe me I'm well aware of what I said, Laura." _It was clear there was more to be said on this, much of which I doubted we'd really want to hear. Then Richards dropped his next bombshell. _"You can discuss it with the Secretary General herself when she arrives up here in about...six hours time." _When neither Bill nor myself had anything to say to this, he added _"Don't worry, I'm as shocked as you are. And apparentl,y she's bringing some senior people from both the EU and China with her."_

Bill mirrored my surprised expression perfectly, right down to the crinkled brow and eyes-too-wide. "Is this normal procedure?" Bill rumbled, giving me precious moments to think.

"_Damned if I know, Admiral. It's not as if we've encountered any extra-terrestrial fleets before."_

Bill colored dangerously and I leapt into the breech. "Fair point, Mr. Secretary. I'd like to ask if any plans or directions have been forwarded to you by the Secretariat."

"_None, I'm afraid."_

I wondered if all Terrans werethis up-front. "You aren't making this any easier for me…us." I don't know why the last bit needed saying or whether it was for Bill's benefit, Richards' or mine.

_"Sorry, Laura. This hasn't been easy on my end either."_

No, things most certainly weren't easy for any of us. The fact we had all tacitly agreed to keep Kara out of all this, thereby effectively benching our best possible liaison, meant we were starting from scratch as far as meshing our collective talents into something that could serve the needs of the Fleet. Thus far, we'd been lucky and the Terran crew and officers were such dedicated professionals and allowed us to take the lead over the supplies.

It sounded, unfortunately, that thisrun of luck was about to be exhausted. I'd bet my last wig a good percentage of what we'd gotten so far was circulating in the black market, gods help us. Major Agathon hadn't reported any difficulties so far, but that could have just meant nothing was being reported to him. I had no doubt some issue or another would emerge soon, if only because we couldn't be so blessed that everything would go perfectly.

"Well, let's see about changing that." The problem was I had no ideas how to make it so. He stole a glance at Bill, who looked equally lost. These people, these cousins of ours, had already given us so much and we had so little left to begin with. What kind of gesture could I make?

The idea sprang fully formed into my cue ball of a head, the words all but spilling out before I realized what I was offering. "Mr. Secretary, you can inform your superiors I'll be waiting to meet them aboard the _Olympus _when they arrive."

Bill didn't immediately protest as I'd expected him to. Richards mirrored his silence for a bit before asking, _"How soon do you want to come over?"_

It wasn't a refusal, but neither was his tone offering an open invitation. I quickly thought through the potential complications, with Bill, with the Quorum, with Richards and his people. With Kara especially, whom I still had yet to lay eyes on and had no frakking clue how to approach. That alone made the prospect of explaining this to Tom and the rest feel simple.

"Give me say three hours, Mr. Secretary. I'll alert you when I'm en route."

"_Very well," _Richards acknowledged with zero enthusiasm. _"You understand the CMO here is going to want to give you a full work-up once you're here, yes?"_

"I'm sure I'll survive."

"_I'm not. Sure, that is. Dr. Creo has a reputation of being comprehensive and attentive to the point of making you sick."_

"Sounds wonderful," I mused idly.

"_Yeah. Richards clear."_ The connection was cut and I risked another look at Bill, whose non-expression I knew well was tantamount to a five year-old's tantrum. The quicker we settled this between us, the quicker I could work on placating the Quorum.

"What?" I questioned, beckoning the storm.

The Admiral simply gave me a small shake of the head and tiredly stood up. "I'll tell the flight deck to have a Raptor standing by," was his only comment as he moved off, leaving me alone and feeling not a little small. We never seemed to get it right, he and I, and my time was running out.

Something else I was determined to change before I was finished in this life, however much it seemed like a lost cause.

TBC…


	33. Chapter 33

_(Back to the pilots, again.)_

* * *

**Part 33**

**Battlestar _Olympus_**

**+25:50:18 **

**_(_Starbuck/_Apollo)_**

He ran his fingers gracefully over my side and along my stomach, leaving a light trail behind them. Gods, but we were going to need to take a shower when we finally came up for air. That prospect warmed me in the most dangerous ways.

I let him do this because I was, amazingly, actually winded after our latest session. Up against the wall. With my legs wrapped around his boney hips and holding on for dear life. It was the closest I'd come to screaming since we'd started, settling for low grunting.

I was back to hating him big time. All of him. Every single _part_ of him.

Most especially that particular _part_ of him that just didn't appear ready to quit even now, five hours into what you'd think was an Olympic event.

"Frakker," I breathed, meaning it in the most literally sense.

* * *

_I didn't laugh as she not-cursed me. I was lucky I could even breathe at that point._

_She was going to kill me, in this closet, death by overexertion and busted back. They'd find my skeleton with a crushed pelvis and spine stuck at 90-degrees and put it on display somewhere. I'd be forever known as 'the guy who frakked to death'._

_I couldn't stop touching her, not knowingor understanding why she didn't slap my hand away. We were both soaked and sticky, and my hand was making us more so._

_Then again, when had Kara Thrace ever had issues with her body or hygiene? Storage closets were hardly virgin territory for us._

_We'd need a shower soon and damned if that thought didn't start have me standing at attention again. We needed a distraction, something to stop us before we started and more hours were lost. _

_I fingered the long-healed scar on her left side. "Caprica?" I asked._

* * *

I nodded, the coincidental mixture of exhaustion, time and distance loosening my tongue. "Yeah. That frakking 'Farm' they housed me in."

Turnabout being fair play, and needing time to let my innards shift back into proper position before we started scrambling them again, I raised an arm and fingered a scar of his own. There were two new ones on his left shoulder, just above the joint itself.

"What're these?" I queried, trying unsuccessfully to ignore the hard length poking me in the hip.

* * *

"_Assassination attempt against the President a year ago."_

_She frowned that beautiful frown of hers. Even her anger was Gods-blessed thing. It only made me want to arch back into her all the more. _

"_I blundered into the middle of it," was my explanation for it. She didn't need to know more right now, although the demand was already forming on her lips._

_With some effort, I managed to raise my head and brace it with my right arm. My left drew a casual trail toward her shoulder this time, fingers tracing her marriage tattoo. _

"_You know about Sam?" She nodded, not looking too surprised at the question. "Thought about getting this removed?" _

_Did I have to sound so frakking hopeful?_

* * *

Did he have to sound so frakking casual? It was as if we were back in the Raptor on that algae planet and he was talking divorce as ifit was just changing a gimbal.

Except, of course, that he had a point: Sam was gone, for good now. Gods have mercy on him if I ever saw him again. Give me five minutes with a priest or priestess of any stripe and I'd have my bans dissolved. I'd carve the ink off my flesh with a bayonet if that's what it took.

But what then? That was something I hadn't really thought about since waking up underneath Nellis. I hadn't wanted for distractions, between finding I was essentially marooned on Earth, then that I was carrying an unexpected passenger.

Lee was still waiting for an answer, so I gave him an honest one. "Haven't really thought about it." I waited a beat and added, "I've been kinda busy here."

* * *

"_Yeah, I noticed." Truth be told, I hadn't noticed. Not immediately. _

_My sanity had momentarily snapped when she'd first stepped into view, so the fact she'd been cradling her personal clone (minus two and a half deca) had not registered at the time._

_Lying there atop our clothes and dripping from each other, the scene presented itself in the mind's eye with perfect clarity. Part of me simply and completely disbelieved what I'd seen, the titles 'Starbuck' and 'mother' being used in the same sentence nigh unto inconceivable. _

_Another part wanted to strangle her again for presumably sharing intimacies._

_The part that controlled my mouth and lungs at that moment asked, "What's her name?"_

* * *

That wasn't the question he really wanted to ask and we both knew it. I was more than willing to go along with his delaying tactics however.

"Aurora," I answered quietly, reverently.

He actually looked awed to silence with this. That or he was bored mindless.

* * *

_Aurora._

_That name. It seemed to surround us both now._

_Dad's model ship, that Oracle's ramblings, Conoy's ranting, the proposed new class of stealth ship; the same name over and over._

_Aurora. _

_I felt light-headed, giddy even. _

_Hadn't the phantom Kara glowed like the dawn?_

_Aurora._

_Of its own volition, my free hand cupped the back of her neck, bringing us back together for a gentle kiss._

* * *

It was meant to be chaste, reaffirming, nothing more. Stiff as he was, the angle was all wrong to initiate anything. He dropped his lips to behind my ear, catching me in that one spot guaranteed to leave me breathless all over again.

Before giving in however we still had things to discuss. I'd given him names, so now it was his turn. "I…recognize…Kacey. Who's…who's…?" I panted, barely in control.

"Hmmm?" Lee hummed into my skin.

"Frak you blue, Adama," I ground out, equal parts frustrated and wanting. Sheer will worked my voice.

"N…name!"

* * *

_It was a struggle not to laugh, nearly as hard a one to remain as we were, contorted and in no danger of another go around._

"_Paya," I purred. "Her name is Paya."_

_I nibbled on the shell of her ear. "You'll like her." _

_It could have been a statement or a command. I was in no state of mind to distinguish one way or the other._

* * *

Lee, being Caprican, didn't have a 'middle' name like Picon or most of the other Colonies gave their children. I had one, given I'd been born on Picon and Momma was insistent that traditions be upheld, meaningless as they were.

If on the other hand Lee _had_ been gifted with one, it would have been "Arrogant".

Or "Asshole".

Or "Possessing Unmitigated Gall", which was three names and more descriptive than identifier.

I could probably have thought up a few more if I hadn't been so busy fighting down the urge to knock him into wall, then straddle him for all we were worth.

I'd like her? I'd _like_ her?

The frakking idiot was dictating to me? As if, even if those lips and hands and fingers were hitting just the right spots to…to…

Arrogantassholepossessingunmitigatedgallwhothinkshesgodenoughtoordermeto…to...ahahahahah...

Toloveahelplessandbeautifullittlegirlwho…oh…oh…ohfrakohfrakohfrakohfrakohfrakohFRAK!

* * *

_Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah!_

_I forgot...her hands…_

_Frak frak frak frak frak! _

_I forgot how her hands…knew how to handle…_

_FrakfrakfrakfrakfrakfrakfrakFRAK!_

* * *

He collapsed atop me just as I came apart under him.

We breathed perfectly in time.

* * *

_I shifted quickly as I could, which wasn't quick at all, so to keep from crushing her._

_I could feel our hearts beating perfectly in time._

* * *

It was perfect.

* * *

_Perfect._

* * *

"I'll love her," I whispered, eyes fixed upwards. "I'll love them."

It could have been a promise to him or the gods; I didn't care which heard it.

* * *

"_We'll love them." I whispered, eyes fixed on the serenity lying beside me._

_It was a promise to her. The gods could take it or leave it._

* * *

I rolled onto my side, nudging him onto his back. I looked down on him, biting my lip, reaching for words that needed to be said.

"Hate me?"

* * *

"_Until the day we die."_

* * *

"Fine with me." I dipped down and brushed out lips one more time.

"I still get to paint it," I affirmed.

* * *

"_Promise me no neon colors."_

_Her smirk promised me a lifetime of eyesores._

* * *

"Bright neon glow-in-the-dark orange."

He winced, clearing envisioning such a thing. I'd have to check with Chief Orin to see if that particular shade could be mixed up somehow. Couldn't afford to let him think I was _completely_ full of bullshit.

I'd need every bit of leverage I could muster if we were going to survive the next fifty years.

* * *

_The wheels in her head were turning fast, coming up with something infinitely worse as we lay there. Much as I would have preferred to continue to lie there, the wider world awaited. _

"_You know they're probably looking for us," I stated._

* * *

I nodded. "Probably got search parties tearing apart every deck."

* * *

"_We should collect the girls."_

* * *

"I need to get you guys quarters here."

* * *

"_I should tell my…the Admiral and President I'm staying put."_

* * *

His hesitation did not go unnoticed and was filed away for later reference. "Yeah, you should do that."

We stayed where we were.

"I don't want to move."

* * *

"_I'm not sure I _can_ move."_

* * *

"Same here."

We didn't look at each other as we struggled to sit up.

* * *

_We dressed without a word between us, passing each other the appropriate bits of clothing._

_She needed a new uniform, one that wasn't missing buttons._

* * *

His suit being one huge wrinkle could be overlooked. But there was no way he was going to Conference Blue _smelling _like he was.

Once we were fully dressed again, I undogged the hatch and pulled it open, mildly surprised to find the corridor deserted. Lee followed close behind as I turned the corner back to my quarters. The door was shut but no guards were in evidence; a small mercy I'd thank Artemis for.

As soon as we stepped inside, I grabbed Lee by the shoulders and pushed him toward the interior doorway. "You, shower, now," I ordered tersely.

* * *

_Seeing no point in arguing, I started stripping down, surprised that she was heading back out._

"_What about you?"_

* * *

"After I talk to Ben or Rice," I threw back over my shoulder, noting clinically he was much more careful taking his suit off this time.

* * *

_I peeled off my underwear with a grimace. "My boxers are a mess."_

* * *

"Go commando," was my only advice as I left, concentrating on keeping my gait as steady as possible.

The hatch clicked shut behind me, shutting off whatever retort he might have come up with. Doubtless I'd hear it later.

It was something to look forward to.

TBC…

* * *

**_De Author Seez:_**_ There you have it, folks. The start of what promises to be a very...interesting...relationship. And no, its not always going to be this sugary. We'll check back on them in a few chapters._

_Meanwhile, Review buttons are meant to be pressed. Please don't be shy. See ya next week._


	34. Chapter 34

**Part 34**

**Battlestar _Olympus  
C_IC**

**+26:34:12**

_**(Richards)**_

I was beyond tired and beyond frustrated, fast approaching both nervous collapse and outright cynicism.

None of the search parties had found the missing COMCAW or Caprican Delegate. Roslin and Adama's reassurances aside, it had taken some effort not to panic on my part and order the ship go to General Quarters. Oh, I had no doubt Ted would have followed the order to do so if it came to that; I equally had no doubt he'd immediately have me sedated and escorted to the deepest, darkest cell in the brig immediately afterwards.

The fact Roslin herself would be coming aboard within the next hour or two, plus Irene and gods-knew-who-else a few hours after that, gave the poor man enough to work over for the time being. My having a breakdown at the frantic pace everything was developing through was something he didn't need and wouldn't appreciate. Things had been tense enough since I had been seconded to the Secretariat, I suspect mainly because he had seen it as me abandoning him to deal with Starbuck's tender mercies all on his own.

I, therefore, swallowed my numerous anxieties and busied myself with, well, nothing of real consequence. Mainly I stayed in CIC and pestered the CommBoard; a couple ofcalls to Conference Blue, being reassured by Shan the three girls were getting along, another to MedDeck getting reassurances from Doctor Creo that he was on top of all possible health issues, and a final one to Callisto on the Landing Deck confirming the EU crews were behaving themselves.

This all done, I stood there for a time studying the AEGIS and contemplating my navel. The temptation to call _Galactica _and give Adama what for again was there. Fortunately, I was calm enough by that point to see it wouldn't serve any practical purpose, never mind likely cause more complications once Irene took over. Even the entertainment value of such an exchange was minimal at best; Kara had gone into the personality and habits of 'the Old Man' in exacting detail over the last year. Such detail, in fact, that there were those on staff who had suggested she was actually Adama's bastard daughter as opposed to just a talented stick-jockey. Family was, understandably, a very sore subject for her, and our Principles Committee had made considerable effort to keep her from hearing so much as a whisper of such rumors.

However, Nellis was a long ways away at that moment, and I was fast running out of ways to keep myself from feeling useless. I tended to get hyperactive when that happened, which most definitely was _not_ a good state for the Secretary of State to be in under the circumstances. I considered sending out a general address plain out _ordering_ Kara to report in, but I had no desire to add to my collection of carefully broken bones. It would hardly be dignified to meet either Roslin or Irene on the flight deck with a cast on my arm, or leg, or neck, or with my jaw wired shut.

Doubtless, both Irene and Roslin would understand and maybe even get a chuckle out of it. But my career in comedy was done with, or at least on extended hiatus.

Besides, anyone who knew Kara Thrace and _did not_ have a healthy fear of her short temper was a complete fool. I could safely say I had learned my lesson there, even it was after nearly a year of first-hand experience.

* * *

_**Seventeen Months Ago…**_

**Nellis Air Base, Nevada  
Base Infirmary  
Exam Room Two**

The resident finished tightening the straps on the pre-molded cast he had affixed to my newly fractured forearm. Thankfully, my fingers and range of motion were not impaired by the injury, which I was told was a clean break and would heal up within a few weeks. He made a couple final notations on the chart in his hand and informed me I could leave, something he himself did rather quickly.

Ted chose that moment to walk in, smiling that damned smile of his with his perfectly straight teeth. I had known Theodore Rice a very long time, even before I had been shanghaied out to this godsforsaken desert. That smile never meant trouble, only impending mockery that would leave my ears stinging.

He opened with, "What'd you do this time?"

"Nothing," I protested.

"Right. Like the last four times she landed you here?"

I answered this with a glare that wouldn't have intimidated a hypochondriac field mouse. "We're going to need to modify her wardrobe," I groused.

"Yeah, that's what I figured," Ted sighed. "You called her 'fat', didn't you?" I declined to answer, verbally anyway. "Damn, Ben. You were married for what, eight years? Didn't you learn there are things you just _don't_ tell a pregnant woman?"

Were it anyone else bringing my wife into a conversation, regardless of context, I would have commenced breaking some bones myself. Ted however had earned a lifetime pass there and wasn't shy about using it, the shit.

"I _didn't_ say she was getting fat."

"No?"

"No." I paused, swallowed, and added, "I just said she was starting to show…a little."

Rice didn't sound convinced. "That's it?"

"Yeah. Well, she was trying up her pants at the time…"

"And she asked the obvious question," the Admiral finished for me. "Ouch."

"Yeah, 'ouch'." I stared at the cast for a moment. "At least she offered to drive me here this time."

"'_This_ time' being the operative words, right? You're lucky she didn't kick your hovering ass out a window." Ted sighed in his long-suffering manner. "Where is she now?"

"Probably down the hall," I shrugged. "Major Dunross wanted to check her over while we're here." Ted snorted and left the room, doubtless to make a nuisance of himself to the Flight Surgeon and our recent arrival. There was a running pool for which of them would deck him first; my money was always on Thrace, although to date she'd shown remarkable restraint. With Ted at least; the rest of us didn't fare quite as well.

Left to myself, I simply stared at my injured arm. "Another one for the collection," I muttered disgustedly, wondering if Ted didn't have point for once.

* * *

_**Present Day**_

Diverting as it was, thinking about Thrace wasn't helping my disposition any. If anything, it began working my last nerve, as if I had any nerves left to work.

Perversely, this reminded me of something I'd been meaning to attend to. "Comms," I called out, turning away from the AEGIS board for the first time in hours.

"Sir?" the Specialist sitting that station responded.

I leaned down and lowered my voice. "I need a secure line to Nellis Air Base back on Earth. Is that possible from our current position?"

"One moment, Sir," the Specialist said equally quietly; my little ploy of _gravitas_ apparently working. He typed into his console for several seconds before shaking his head. "No. Sorry, Mr. Secretary, but we're too far off the relay network to get a signal through." He was referring to a complex net of satellites and remote relay stations shared between the UN, TDF, EU, and China for off-planet communication. It really only stretched between Earth to the fringes of the 'Belt and wasn't the most reliable of mediums, never mind you could never be entirely sure who was listening in.

There was the open agreement by all sides that while everyone might be eavesdropping on everyone else, no one would _ever_ attempt to jam or block any transmission lest a cry for help was missed. Space was as unforgiving as the ocean, so it wasn't surprising the traditions of the latter ruled out here. Everyone also stayed within a fixed frequency range, which apparently was the only reason _Olympus_ originally found the Colonials.

"How about a simple text line?"

The Specialist nodded. "We can manage, Sir." Text transmission took less power and was infinitely more incongruous. I preferred it here because I knew anyone listening would start tying themselves up in knots trying to break the (non-existent) cipher. There was a part of me that just couldn't resist messing with my usually faceless opponents, who figured every little message from my office had some deeper meaning.

"I'll need a specific recipient, Sir."

"Ah, right. Send it to Erica Tate." I rattled off her comms code as I patted down my jacket pockets. Finding the notepad and pen I always kept on hand, I jotted out a message so simple Erica couldn't possibly misunderstand the question:

_Any mention of a "Harbinger of Apocalypse" in Pythia? - Signed, Ben._

"Transmit this," I ordered, handing the Specialist the paper.

"Highest priority, Mr. Secretary?"

"No need," I shook my head. "Send it 'Median' when you have a chance. Priority to maintaining clear lines with _Galactica_ and her fleet."

"Aye, Sir." The Specialist carefully folded the paper into his breast pocket, and then resumed his rapid-fire typing.

Figuring I'd done enough pestering in CIC, I made my way off the deck with no particular destination in mind. Well, I did have a general idea where I might still do some good before I finally keeled over.

* * *

**Conference Delta**

I didn't manage one step into the room before Rice intercepted me. "Mr. Secretary!" he all but cried out in a too-jovial-by-half manner. "I was just about to call you."

"I'm sure." Further comment was rendered moot as Rice gripped my arm and all but pulled me back into the corridor.

"Don't even fucking think about it," the Admiral hissed. My glare hadn't improved over the years, but it was enough to get him to cease dragging me further.

"Move the hand, Admiral," I murmured. Rice did so, but with clear reluctance. "I'm not here to..."

He cut me off again. "You are not needed here at all, Mr. Secretary. Major Agathon and Commodore Avery-Hunter have operations well in hand." He took another step closer, dropping his voice further still. "And the last goddamned we need is you driving everyone crazier than we already are!"

"Funny," I smirked.

"Do I look like I'm laughing, Ben?" He looked around the corridor, clearly hoping our confab was quiet to the point of inaudible. "How long has it been since you actually got some sleep?"

"Damned if I remember," I stated honestly after a few beats. It had been quite awhile at least, given I'd spent literally days in conference with Chinese ministers before getting 'the call'. Add to that the grinding anxiety over Kara being off-planet and my constant misgivings over being in the UN Secretariat these days? I had no idea how I was still upright any longer.

"Do I have to have you escorted to your cabin or have Creo sedate you?"

I actually chuckled at the thought, knowing Ted was dead serious about both options. "Either might be a good idea right now."

"I don't want it to come to that, especially with the Secretary General _en route_..."

"Never mind Roslin flying over in a couple hours," I broke in.

Rice was momentarily stunned. "You're kidding me."

"I wish."

"_You_ didn't suggest this?"

"_You _wish. But no, it'sall her idea." I sighed and rubbed my already-chaffed neck. "Probably wants to show she trusts us..."

"When?"

I glanced at my watch, noting it was still set on Berlin time. "We talked about an hour ago and she was talking a three hour window. She will contact us before she heads out."

"Think she'll bring Adama with her?"

"I wouldn't be surprised."

"Great." Ted looked back to the doorway of Con-Delta. "Agathon in the know...?"

"You tell me. You've seen him more than me."

Ted spent a few moments studying his boots. "Thrace surfaced yet?"

"Not that I've heard."

"This is getting crazy, isn't it?" I chuckled again, somewhat relieved I wasn't the only one who was feeling overwhelmed here.

"I don't know anymore, Admiral. I'm seeing double right now."

Ted joined me in another chuckle. "In that case will you _please _get some sleep? I'll make it an order if I have to."

I shook my head. "No need. I'm off. Just promise you'll alert me if..."

It was Rice's turn to shake his head. "Uh-uh. Only reason I'll call is if we have a real Case ZULU show up." I would have objected if Ted hadn't pressed on immediately. "We need you as clear headed as we can get, Ben. That means you'll have to leave things to the rest of us for a bit, okay? Okay?"

"Okay, fine." Truth be told, I was no longer in any condition to argue the point. "You're in charge until Irene shows up. Satisfied?"

"Not until I hear you're out cold and out of my, _our_ goddamned hair."

Theodore Rice was many things; vulgar wasn't among them. "Geez. Maybe _you_ need a nap." Rice gave me the sort of look we usually reserved for Kara when she wanted to push the envelope flying the latest Viper prototype.

I threw up both hands and said, "I'm going, I'm going. Don't overdo it, okay?"

"Frak you," the Admiral quietly sneered.

"No thanks, I'm happily married." This drew another chuckle from both of us as I walked off, intent on getting to the cabin I'd been assigned on Deck B. It proved a bit more of an effort than I had originally thought, my steps getting a little unsteady and my hands starting to shake slightly. Somehow I managed it.

Unfortunately, that is when things began to get more complicated for us all.

* * *

**Deck B, Portside Corridor**

I nearly walked past the intersection that I would recall later would have led to Thrace's cabin without a second look. It was at the moment I half-stumbled past that particular junction that I heard a door slam shut with unusual force. Looking over but not expecting anything more than an anonymous crewmember hurrying the opposite direction from me.

Seeing a disheveled Colonel Kara Thrace left me frozen in mid-stride for several seconds. Watching her march to the nearby wall-phone didn't help me any. It wasn't until she actually picked up the phone and dialed in what must have been the shipwide line that my paralysis broke as she said, "Pass the word..." She realized I was marching towards her and immediately added, "Cancel."

I counted to ten, twice, before I trusted my voice. "Where the hell have you been?" I demanded quietly, not willing to draw more attention to us than could be helped. She appeared out of breath, was missing her beret, and was trembling slightly from…something. It could have been excitement or anxiety.

"Catching up with Lee," she explained breathlessly. "Listen, I need you back me upon something."

Giving her a quick once-over and asked with remarkable calm "What happened to your uniform?" She looked down, as if noticing the missing buttons or small tears along her sleeves for the first time.

"Huh? Oh, uh, that's nothing..."

I stared at her, not trusting my voice and my temples pounding.

"Look," she went on. "I need you to back me up on a request to the Admiral."

"What? Adama?"

She shook her head sharply. "No, Rice."

"Ask him yourself." The last thing I needed was to get into something harebrained between her and Ted.

"No, no. This will influence negotiations with the Quorum. Well, maybe it will. I don't know."

I sighed heavily, knowing this was going to make my headache worse. "What is it?" I asked, eyes directed towards the ceiling.

"I need long-term guest quarters to be assigned aboard _Olympus _for someone."

Sounded reasonable enough. "For who?"

"Lee and the girls."

I moaned and bowed my head as spots started dancing before my eyes. I ineffectually tried rubbing them in hopes of clearing my vision.

"Ben, I'm not trying to make things difficult here…"

"Since when?" I groaned in existential pain.

"Look, Lee's already telling the President he's moving over, so..."

"Wha...? Whose brilliant idea was it?"

"His. He's already here and since I can't leave _Olympus_, it makes sense for him to be close by, right?"

I looked at her, now noticing the light bruising around her neck, her swollen lips and even-messier-than-normal hair. This gave me a _very_ clear picture of what had likely been happening between them the last five and a half hours. Amazingly, it was at that point my head quit pounding. I was either going to start laughing and never stop, or simply have a stroke right in front of her.

Instead, somehow, my steady voice asked, "Family quarters?"

"Uh, yeah."

"Preferably something close to yours?"

"Uh, yeah."

This was just getting better and better. Gods only knew what Roslin was going to make of it, never mind Irene when she finally got here. "Where's Mr. Adama now?"

"My quarters taking a shower."

Oh, gods. That was it, the straw that broke my metaphorical back. Unable to asmuch as _look_ at her any longer, I leaned back against the bulkhead and nearly doubled over. Both hands covering my face as if this would ward off everything that was hammering my conscious mind, threatening to knock me clean out. Precisely when had I completely lost control of events that stuff like…this…could happen?

Then again, when had I been in control of _anything_ that happened in my life?

"Ben…" Kara started, only to be silenced by my upraised hand and small shake of my head. It was either that or risk strangling her.

At length, I calmed enough to straighten up and say, "Okay, I'll talk to Ted." Still not willing to look in her direction, I raised my hand sharply again, forestalling a coming comment from her. "Just…do me a small favor? Don't talk to me for a few hours."

Not wanting to risk any other reaction, from her or myself, I turned and started marching in the opposite direction from which she'd come. Gods willing I'd make it back to my cabin before everything unraveled and I simply and literally came apart.

Of course, first I would have to call Rice and give _him_ the good news.

Hopefully, I wouldn't sound _too_ crazy when I did so, but hope was a treacherous thing these days.

TBC..._immediately!_


	35. Chapter 35

**Part 35**

**Battlestar _Olympus  
_Conference Blue**

**+27:04:19**

_**(Mahn)**_

Children are both a true blessing and a constant trial; I knew this as well as any guardian or parent. Their innocence made them precious, something to be protected and loved above all others. Their often-boundless energy could test both patience and stamina beyond any training course I'd yet run. That they knew all this, and never failed to use their absolute dependence upon adults to their benefit, often left me to wonder which side was the more intelligent.

However, no matter what trials my siblings or Aurora set against me, I never _never_ before thought _any_ child to be a true _spawn_ of the most depraved, monstrous demon from the deepest pit of the underworld. Never!

Cassandra Adama was making me seriously re-think that conviction.

After Aurora had rolled onto her back, Kasey had decided it would be fun to start 'flying' her Viper again, this time around the whole of the room. Aurora amused herself by slowly rolling onto her side and was even now struggling to her feet, a once-Herculean task for her that she had mastered. Paya thankfully remained asleep but doubtless would wake soon; of the three, she worried me the least despite her health concerns.

Aurora was a known quality. She was mobile, yes, but did not seem to have the usual boldness that toddlers exhibited. If anything, she _studied_ her surroundings, with an intensity and caution I found unsettling for one so small; she would move only once she was satisfied there were no obstacles or challenges too great for her, a rare occurrence.

The Colonel for whatever reason, did not share my discomfort and never offered a reason for her calm acceptance of her offspring's manner. I could only presume her confidence came from knowledge of the child's father, who to date had gone unnamed and unremarked upon, at least by name.

I had known within minutes that Kasey would be the real challenge. What I had seen of her in the past hours left me wondering what sort of home life she had lived in to date. Her aggressive and demanding manner for one so small did not leave me encouraged. I interpreted it not as a sign of overindulgence - _those_ signs I knew quite well enough - but of deprivation and neglect. She wasn't utterly emotionally cut-off from others, thankfully, as her unhidden concern for Paya showed. Her short description of her mother's passing told me a great deal as well.

My initial choice of 'toys' for them to play with was as much to sound out her reactions as keep her engaged. She wasn't hesitant about engaging in play and showed no negative reactions to military ships. Since her guardian - I tentatively concluded Delegate Adama was not the biological father of either girl based on appearances alone - was in the Quorum, she must have had ample exposure to the military end of their fleet. Her choice to play with Vipers interested me, as had her behavior back in the Colonel's cabin.

That was another thing I puzzled over. Delegate Adama's sudden arrival aboard aside, Kasey's abruptly throwing herself into the bedroom without invitation or permission had simply happened too fast for me to absorb, never mind comment. I couldn't help but feel embarrassed by my sloth, my perception and reflexes having apparently been dulled by the last year. I made a note to do something about that once we were home.

Kara's evident ease and familiarity with the child when she emerged from the back room suggested a prior association. There were large tracts of her history that were still unknown so her being friends with Kasey was certainly possible. The child's affection for Vipers was therefore at least partially explained.

However, the rest of it worried me, most especially her unrestrained attitude, which went beyond just a typical five-year-old asserting her growing independence. Dr. Creo's order that the children and their parents attend him at Life Station once the latter returned helped more than he might realize. It would allow a more comprehensive examination of these girls than I could likely manage however covertly, and perhaps address other concerns of their emotional well-being as well.

Unfair as it might be, I couldn't help but be angry with Kara just now for setting Aurora aside so heedlessly and not checking in once over the last five-plus hours. Yes, I understood the enormous significance of her people's arrival, and could just imagine the many complications and contingencies that would have to be ironed out. In that context, Delegate Adama's presence here was perfectly logical.

Surely, her priorities weren't thrown so completely askew she had forgotten her own child. Admiral Rice, Commodore Avery-Hunter, and Major Agathon had been checking in at semi-regular intervals. They were never demanding or sounding overly concerned, merely seeking reassurance all was well. Even Secretary Richards - who sounded as if he were personally overseeing every aspect of contact with the Colonials and was ready to collapse from it – had called in a couple times.

Yet from both Colonel Thrace and Delegate Adama? Nothing. It was most disconcerting.

I had called the kitchens, having a simple meal prepared and delivered for the girls. Fruit salad, unsalted crackers and lightly-flavored juice had kept Kasey occupied for the whole of ten minutes and was tearing off again; not once did she let go of her Viper while she ate.

Paya was slower in eating and frequently rubbed her eyes. Once she was done, she took herself back to the sleeping bag I'd laid out for her, but did not go back to sleep. This was a small relief, as I doubted sleeping so much for any child was a healthy thing. Instead, she simply sat down and watched the rest of us with a serious, nervous look. I took this for the warning it was and kept my distance.

Then there was Aurora, who was insistent upon holding her own crackers and sippy cup, but adamantly refused the fruit salad. If experience was any guide, she'd throw her spork and the salad cup with uncanny accuracy at my jacket. Deciding discretion was the better option, I set the salad aside and made sure she had her fill of the rest. I'd leave feeding her more substantial foods to her mother, who was in serious danger of getting a piece, several pieces, of my mind when we had a quiet moment.

The meal done, I divided my attention several ways: Kasey was racing all about and eyeing the tables against the wall; Aurora back to crawling-stumbling here and there; and Paya, who silently regarded the world with so sorrowful an expression I wondered if she had not been born with such a face.

"Kasey, stay away from those tables," I called out, moving close to Aurora, who in turn was making a beeline for Paya. The child naturally ignored me and continued eyeing the furniture. Aurora by this point had reach Paya and positioned herself to sit opposite her, all but mirroring her slightly hunched posture. Their profiles, from where I crouched, bore some passing resemblance - same basic nose structure, rosy cheeks, and thick mops of hair - making their competing expressions of innocent joy and deep sorrow all the more striking.

"Whosh! Whosh! Whosh!" Kasey breathed loudly, prompting me to glance her way for a moment. She hadn't managed to find a way onto the tabletop, but it was only a matter of time.

"Stop it," a new voice hissed. Turning towards it, I saw that Paya was batting Aurora's outstretched arm away. Aurora did not take offense and just leaned in again.

"Aurora," I chided sharply. "Do not bother Paya if she doesn't want..."

"Whosh!" Kasey cried as she jumped off a table. How the devil had she managed to get up there? Fortunately, for our collective hearing she landed somewhat softly, loosing her balance and tumbling onto her backside. She looked about momentarily confused, but otherwise was unhurt.

"Cassandra! I told you to stay away from there."

"I'm Kasey!" she shouted in reply, getting to her feet and preparing to race back to the table. I caught her in my arms, tossing her into the air and catching her easily. This served to both distract and dissuade her from another try, or so I hoped. She was no lightweight and I didn't wish to try it again.

"Again!" Kasey demanded, just as Paya batted as Aurora again.

I could only sigh. Sigh, and pray the parents of these three resurfaced soon from...whatever they were doing. Likely as not, it was some official debriefing of the Colonel.

But what kind of debriefing, however comprehensive, took over five hours?

TBC..._on the next page!  
_


	36. Chapter 36

_(A little, unprompted flashback. Hope you enjoy.)_

* * *

** Part 36**

_**(Mahn)**_

_**Eighteen Months Ago...**_

**Nellis Air Base, Nevada  
Base Residential Block**

**1013 Hours GMT**

Initially, I was expecting the typical track housing here as I'd seen on the other half-dozen military bases I'd been stationed at one time or another over the last ten years. But as Mr. Richards, Admiral Grey and I rode across the length of the base, and taking in the arid environment it occupied, I revised my expectations. Downwards. I was reconciled that I'd just agreed to move my family into a dank fallout shelter built in the previous century and had all the charms of a tomb.

So I couldn't help but gawk in surprise as the concrete expanses gave way to belt of green lawns, mature trees and pleasant looking houses. More the sort of scene you would expect to see on some idyllic resort town along the Pacific coast than out in the Nevada desert. I did not immediately notice any base personnel or occupants and only a couple of vehicles in evidence, which left me to wonder if this was all just for show. It would not have surprised me, given the work going on out here.

Our land rover pulled up to a modest bungalow, its exterior painted a soothing light orange and its lawn shaded by two tall ash trees. Otherwise, there was nothing to distinguish it from the other houses, save the armored Land Rover sitting in the driveway and thetwo armed men lounging on the small porch.

We parked at the curb and exited our vehicle. Admiral Grey and Mr. Richards were out before we'd come to a complete stop. Richards hurried forward and exchanged some quiet words with those two standing on the porch, nodding sharply and gesturing in my direction. I was more measured, proceeding with a bit more caution and making sure to take in many details of our surroundings. Between the open sky and widely-space houses, I could see how easy it might be to ambush someone here at night, especially if they were not expecting it.

Making my way up the driveway, I tried to divine something, anything, about the presumed occupant. The only thing I noticed was the two-person swing on the porch, the shade of deep blue it had been painted somewhat at odds with the wall behind it. If I recalled aural colors correctly, blue symbolized elevated spiritual tendencies or aspirations or something. I wondered if the color held any relevance to this 'Colonel Thrace' or if I was just reaching.

I joined the Admiral and his civilian at the front door, pocketing my mirror shades as they did. It was Mr. Richards however, who knocked sharply on the door. The two guards had withdrawn to their own Land Rover by that point. Neither of them wore any visible insignia or unit patches and had been holding their weapons in clear view; the warning had been clear to anyone passing by. I wondered for a moment if their dismissal was temporary or permanent; either option held contingencies I'd have to accommodate later.

There was no immediate response to the knocking. The Admiral and civilian exchanged a knowing look, then the latter stepped forward again but this time turned the doorknob. The door creaked open, leading into the house's darkened interior.

"Blasted woman," Mr. Richards muttered loudly as he nudged the door fully open. He marched in, the Admiral close on his heels. I lingered just a moment longer, and then followed.

The front room immediately before us was sparsely furnished: sofa pushed against the nearest wall, ottoman, loveseat, a single end table, and small bookshelf similarly moved aside. There was a wall-mounted medium sized plasma television tuned to one of the info-channels, the volume muted. A painter's easel and canvas standing atop a much-stained spread took up the rest of the room. A pallet of oils and cup of brushes sat on the floor as well.

Curiosity - about the painting more than anything, as I was sure it would tell me something about the house's occupant - warred with caution for a moment, the latter winning out, keeping me in place. Besides, I recalled it was considered bad form to view a canvas unless invited by the artist. It told me much as it was that the painting was the center of the room and everything was rearranged around it.

Mr. Richards and the Admiral spared the scene only a momentary glance then moved down the hall. I followed, moving past an office/den that was the polar opposite of the spartan front room. Papers, books, and manuals in binders werepiled haphazardly about an equally crowded desk and across the floor. Passing this, we ultimately arrived in the house's sole bedroom. The queen-size bed had clearly been slept in, but the rest of the room was clean and organized as a fresh recruit's barracks. There was no laundry, or personal effects for that matter, sitting about.

"I'll bloody kill her if she's left..." Richards growled, moving to the doorway that presumably led to the head and shower. No sooner had he pushed the door open than a slender arm shot out, pointing a regular-issue Glock automatic directly between his eyes.

The Admiral and I started, although I was the only one to reach for my side arm. The Admiral put a restraining hand on my shoulder, keeping me from drawing it as the young woman to whom the arm was attached stepped into room. She didn't appear much older than myself, but between the gun and how she was glaring at the civilian, she might as well have been towering over the three of us (as opposed to being barefoot, clad only in a paint-stained dress shirt a size too large, and an inch or two shorter than Richards).

Going by the Admiral's expression - one of tired resignation - this wasn't the first time this scene had played out. "Colonel Thrace," he groaned. "Will you please _not_ shoot any of us for the moment?"

The Colonel's only answer was to pull the weapon's hammer down.

"Please?" Richards echoed, not sounding the least afraid.

Her response was a growl in some language resembling Greek. Whatever it was, it didn't sound contrite or complimentary. Her eyes flicked towards me, then refocused on Richards. In English this time, she asked, "Who's that?"

The Admiral squeezed my shoulder slightly, prompting me to come to attention and flick a parade-ground salute. "Lieutenant Xian Coy Mahn, ma'am."

"Your new aide," Richards added.

Her hazel eyes regarded me briefly; her weapon did not waver as much as a single hair. "I do not need a babysitter," she said at length, her words colored by a raspy accent. Returning her glare to Mr. Richards, she spat something again, in what was presumably her native language.

Richards replied, "Nobody thinks that, Ka...Colonel." He was quick to correct his near _faux pas_ when the Colonel advanced a single step, resting the business of her automatic on the bridge of his nose. Clearly, she disliked uninvited familiarity, at least under these circumstances.

"But," Richards continued. "You have to admit your recent behavior has been a little atypical. I mean, you aren't one to hide away with the shades drawn..."

Thrace, again in her native tongue, all but shouted her answer this time. Her eyes flickered between the civilian and the Admiral, whose expression was one of concern but not anger at the apparent disrespect for both decorum and rank being displayed. She ignored me entirely, which allowed me to quickly review our surroundings and positions. I concluded I was not in an ideal position to disarm her without at least one round being discharged; an unacceptable risk to all involved.

I also noted how her free hand was wrapped around her midsection, which pretty much confirmed a suspicion of mine that hadn't been reflected in her file.

It proved a moot point as she lowered the weapon, thumbing the hammer back and engaged the safety in one smooth move. At which point the Admiral answered her outburst. "Those...men...have already been removed from the base, Colonel. We've also gone back over the profiles and records of the rest of your current class of nuggets..."

The Colonel's snort of disgust was as rude as it was decisive. She began to something, again in her native tongue, but was abruptly cut off by Richards. "In English. You need to work on your grammar."

"Fine," she said, not sounding contrite or mollified. "Those three idiots aside, I still don't need a...a bodyguard."

"Lieutenant Mahn is not here to serve as a bodyguard, Colonel," Admiral Grey stated with finality. "She's going to be your aide, secretary, driver, extra pair of hands, and whatever else you need to make sure you and your passenger have clear skies from here on."

Colonel Thrace chuckled rudely. "What? _Anything_?"

"Within reason," Richards amended. "And I wouldn't go pissing her off, either. She's more dangerous than the rest of this base combined."

Thrace turned to look at me, clearly skeptical. "How old are you, Lieutenant?" she asked.

"Old enough, ma'am," was my answer. The Colonel gave a small shake of her head and pushed past Richards to advance on me directly. She waved her side arm loosely in my direction, at which point I moved. I easily slipped the weapon from her hand and smoothly stepped to her left, the business end of her automatic now lined neatly with the canal of her left ear.

Thrace hesitated for just a second, then ducked-and-dodged downward while her arm shot up to knock my aim off. I allowed her to do so, snatching the gun quickly with my right hand and again lining up the sights with her head; I was standing directly in front of her now, and well out of arm's reach.

To reinforce my point, I ejected the clip, and then flicked the necessary parts to cause the Glock to come apart into its constituent pieces. It was one of the first CQC moves I had been trained in at Fort Hammond, and comparatively one of the easiest.

Colonel Thrace watched dumbly as the parts of her weapon fell to the carpet at our feet, then righted herself to look directly at me. "Okay, you've got some skill..." Her bravado was quickly exhausted in the face of my detached gaze. Turning back to Admiral Grey, she asked, "Is she supposed to stay here, with me?"

The Admiral shook his head. "She and her family will be moving in next door."

Thrace frowned and looked me over again. "Family?"

"I am the legal guardian of my two younger siblings."

"Sounds like _you_ need a babysitter..."

"I am also married. My partner attends to them while I amdeployed elsewhere." My look must have dissuaded her from pressing further. Instead, the Colonel threw a glare directly at Richards.

"You've got this all figured out, don't you?"

The civilian shrugged. "Rice was the one who came up with it. I just made a suggestion."

"Right," she sighed, looking down at the remains of her weapon, then back to me. "I hope you've got a lot of patience, Lieutenant. You will need it."

I nodded gravely, acknowledging the admission for what it was and appreciating her candor.

"When's your next exam with Commander Dunross?" the Admiral asked, which invoked a tired sigh from the Colonel.

"1400 hours, Sir." It was the first time I heard her speak with any military formality. It sounded strange on her tongue, even past the odd accent she had.

"Good," Grey nodded. "This will give you a chance to familiarize the Lieutenant here with the base."

"Oh, so I'm a frakking tour guide now?"

Admiral Grey's expression darkened significantly. "What you are, _Colonel_ Thrace, is _the_ single most important officer in this fleet, either on or off this entire planet." He straightened slightly, his eyes boring into hers. "So don't even _think_ about trying to slip away again. Understood?"

Thrace came to attention, though her posture suggested this was by choice and not through the Admiral's admonishing. "Yes, Sir." I could see a hint of rebellion in her eyes.

Richards's voice broke the escalating tension. "You two finished checking whose is bigger?" Admiral Grey scowled deeply at him, the way someone does when they are fighting not to laugh, while Thrace's mouth gave a microscopic twitch. I opted for my usual neutral expression and watched the dynamic play out.

Colonel Thrace let out a long breath and asked, "Do your kids like to paint, Lieutenant?"

"Occasionally, Sir."

"Good, so do I." She nodded. "Okay, she'll do. But don't expect me to play babysitter."

"Like you don't do that enough with the nuggets," Richards snickered.

Ignoring him, Thrace continued, "And I won't cut back hours unless the Base Surgeon makes it an order."

"Which you know he will." Richards again. The interplay between these two was fascinating, particularly given I detected no overt physical interest from either involved.

Thrace merely gritted her teeth, gave us a salute, and stomped back into the bathroom. She didn't slam the door but did bark, "Knock next time!" The sound of running water was as effective a dismissal as any and the three of us left the room.

We returned to the front room, where Mr. Richards stated, "Don't let her fool you, Lieutenant. Her bite is a lot worse than her bark."

"Yeah," Admiral Grey agreed. "How many times has sent you to the Infirmary? Four?"

"Five. All clean breaks and nowhere vital."

"God help us when she hits eight months." A genuine shudder passed between the two men, as if they were privy to some premonition of horrors to come.

I wondered once again at the assignment I'd agreed to so readily. If nothing else, the next years would prove...interesting times.

Though whether it would be in the conventional sense, or as in the ancient Chinese curse, I had no idea.

TBC...

* * *

**CQC: **"Close Quarters Combat"


	37. Chapter 37

_Some clarification might be in order: _

_**blackjackets** is slang for Colonial Marines in full tactical gear _

_**knuckledraggers** is slang for any enlisted ratings serving aboard a Colonial Fleet warship_

_**hot-mist**_ _is the Colonial equivalent to pepper spray _

_You probably already figured that out already but I figured I'd add to my word count a bit. Onwards._

* * *

**Part 34**

**Raptor 271  
Fleet Resupply Operations**

**+26:46:03 **

_**(Racetrack)**_

I wasn't religious by any stretch. Even the end of our worlds hadn't convinced me to take up prayer, never mind actual worship. I hadn't seriously thought we'd ever see the end of this exodus. That wasn't because I didn't put stock in the Scrolls the way everyone else did; I simply didn't believe in any of it.

The fact I had spilled my guts to that Cylon bitch Biers five years ago hadn't put me in any better frame of mind. Neither had watching Karl getting it on and _keeping_ it on with Athena; Costanza had done me a bit of good there, at least until he'd been transferred with the Agathons over to the _Nemesis_. Since then I'd been pretty much floating free, wondering when the toasters would catch up with us.

But for the past nine hours I'd been watching a veritable army of men and women in unfamiliar uniforms hustle around the flight deck, in and out of shuttlecraft that only barely resembled ours, and bring out box atop box that I knew from experience were filled with packaged foods, bottled water, and other necessities for survival. Frak me if it all didn't make me start rethinking everything.

Okay, I knew intellectually these people were as flesh and blood as I was. However, watching them in action left me almost breathless, and harboring just the smallest doubt about their origins. I had to wonder how often they conducted these kinds of supply ops, because they made it look so damned easy.

I was watching all this from deck-level, catching my breath between the constant runs between _Galactica _and the rest of the fleet. The CAG and the Old Man had been adamant about us Colonials having as much control over the distribution of the food, sundries and equipment as we could. This meant everyone who could handle a stick was in a Raptor or shuttle coming or going from _Galactica, _which was serving as the hub of the operation_. _

Outside was more activity than I'd seen any time since I was rook ECO monitoring the _Bright Spear_ war games. How anyone could make out anything given DRADIS was clogged with so many Viper squadrons engaging the _Eos_ and _Sparta_ I'll never know. Even though the Terran ships barely registered on DRADIS, they weren't that hard to spot with eyes, if only because the shuttles were flying such clean lines to and from them. None of them were especially pretty, what I presumed was the _Olympus_ especially, but who were we to complain esthetics when we getting our first decent meal in forever?

The typical run for the last nine hours had been having the cases flown by the pallet over to _Galactica_, followed by a quick sort through by the Terrans on the flight deck, followed by someone from _Galactica_ checking a list and calling out a particular combination of item cases bound for particular ships. The Terrans did most of the heavy lifting, piling the crates into shuttle or Raptor holds with geometric near precision. The loading process never seemed to take more than five minutes no matter how many shuttles were waiting.

What took forever were the runs themselves. With so many aircraft moving in so many directions, maneuvering within the Fleet got a whole lot trickier even with both _Galactica_ and _Nemesis _CICs at the top of their game. Add to that the need to have one of the Quorum or their staff plus one or two of the Terrans aboard and it made for a seriously over-burdened bird each time.

* * *

I didn't like doughnut runs, didn't like playing taxi, and sure as frak didn't like combining the two. Sadly, even department heads weren't exempt from Bulldog's orders. I'd heard even the CAP had been recalled so we'd have as many pilots doing as many runs as possible; no way the Old Man would leave the fleet exposed, so the Terrans must have gained his full confidence somehow.

Unless, of course, Adama had finally gone as far around the bend as Roslin had. The mighty Apollo sure as shit had; with him seeing Starbuck around every corner it was no wonder he and our esteemed President got along so well these days. Gave a whole new meaning to "family affair", or so we snickered in the Ready Room away from Bulldog's hearing.

Landing my bird was always a relief nothing short of orgasmic at this point, even if it was in the hold of the stinking hauler-turned-passenger ship _Stellios. _Like the previous four ships I'd flown to, there was a Marine fire-team and a pair of knuckledraggers waiting for us. Just like the pilots, every blackjacket and knuckledragger who could be spared was spread throughout the Fleet to handle distribution on the ships themselves. The Terrans were along to instruct our people on what was what in the crates, and the Quorum reps were there to show the Terrans could be trusted here and to answer any questions.

I powered down the Raptor's engine and secured the pilots board before popping the hatch, at which point the greeting party moved forward. I watched from the cockpit as several of the ship's crew materialized behind the blackjackets and formed a loose line leading from the hatch on back into the landing bay.

The Quorum Delegate, Kail Goss of Aquaria, was the first to disembark. He exchanged some words with the one of the ship's officers, and then motioned for the pair of Terrans who were aboard to come with him. Once they were out of the bird and out of the way, the blackjackets moved forward and started unloading the crates from the back.

After that, it was a matter of passing one crate after the next to the knuckledraggers immediately behind them, who in turn passed them to the crew that had lined behind _them_. It reminded me of an old, old photo from First Form History: those old-fashioned bucket-lines used to fight fires back before the invention of indoor plumbing. I had seen it four times already and was still struck how well choreographed it seemed.

The crate-line in this case led to a collection of long tables that other crewmembers just finished setting up a short distance off. The crates were stacked at the direction of the two Terrans into easily accessible towers. There was another little conference between the crew and our bunch, Delegate Goss and all, as more long tables and benches were set up further down. signaled for Showboat to join me and we exited our bird. We both carried side arms, while the Marines only had their hot-mist sprays. We therefore kept our distance from the where the distribution was apparently going to take place, but remained clear enough in sight that we could move in if needed. Thus far it hadn't proved necessary, but I wasn't willing to leave things to fortune alone.

By this point, the ship's civilian passengers had started filing in, roughly one hundred souls in all, not counting the original crew. The overwhelming majority of them were Aquarians judging

Figuring the blackjackets, who had taken up position by the entryway to the guts of the ship, could likely use some back-up I by their lighter-than-average complexions, narrow eyes and shabbier-than-most clothes. Only the Sagittarians tended to look worse, but only just.

Delegate Goss started speaking at that point. It was more or less the same speech I'd heard on the previous four ships: please be calm, these people are our friends, please allow the elderly and the young to get their supplies first, please listen to our new friend's instructions, please remain orderly...

I tuned it out and kept an eye on the civilians, who were starting to look restless. The _Stellios_ did not enjoy an especially good reputation, either crew- or passenger-wise. Apparently, the end of worlds also meant an end to the Aquarian's reputation for being the polite pacifists of the Twelve Colonies. Equally likely was that these people simply hadn't had decent food since the second exodus.

Still, they formed up in a rough line as asked and more or less proceeded in an orderly fashion. The Terrans passed out meal packs and bottled water to each civilian as they passed by, making sure to include a hand-sized card with each that explained a bit about the meal pack, including how to work the self-heating bits. It sounded a lot like the Survival Rations the Fleet issued those unfortunates who had gone through the infamous "escape and evasion" X-course on Tauron. The civilians then clustered around the tables and benches that had been set up, eating and drinking in relative quiet.

* * *

I had heard somewhere both the food and water was laced with mild sedatives so to keep things as calm as possible; it might explain why the ship's crews got their meals from a completely different crate than the civilians. If it was true, it was probably the smartest move these people had pulled since giving us control of the sky upon arrival. Likely as not, that was the main reason this was going so smoothly so far. If things went according to plan, after everyone had their food the Terrans would start passing out blankets and such so the civilians would have a small measure of comfort when they finally dropped off. After that, we would be off and heading back to _Galactica _so we could start the process all over again.

Showboat had tuned in to Secretary Richards' press conference while we were still flying with the CAP, but personally I no idea what to make of him or his promises. He made Earth sound almost too good to be real: a mish-mash of all twelve of our colonies, but not over-crowded and, as diverse as our people had ever been.

Still, Roslin and the Old Man seemed to believe him; whatever he had brought with him must have been damned convincing for them to come out on his side so quickly. Given this, it was an unspoken agreement within the air wing to give these people the benefit of the doubt for the moment. Frak if I knew what we would do if this turned out to be a massive trick or something else besides.

* * *

A loud cry shook me from my rumination, my hand automatically going my holster as I saw a couple scraggly men start to shove an elder woman aside. The blackjackets moved quickly to restrain the instigators and assist the elder, but it was too late to control the situation. "Aw frak," Showboat muttered as the disturbance quickly rippled up and down the line.

"Hey, hey, hey!" I shouted ineffectually as the people started pushing one another or trying climb over the table to get at the crates directly. There were several children caught up in the mix, their frightened cries only adding to the chaotic din. My ECO and I could only watch, momentarily paralyzed, as a miniature riot broke out. To his credit, Delegate Goss tried to intervene and the Terrans were clearly no slouches at crowd control, but this amounted to nothing in the face of being outnumbered 20 to one.

Sharing a glance with Showboat, I nodded and raised my sidearm, pointing it directly upwards. We each fired a single round into the ceiling, hoping like Hades we didn't end up breaching the hull. We didn't, although the combined shots did have the desired effect and froze everything in place. I opened my mouth, having no frakking clue what I could or should say.

To our collective surprise, a quite forceful voice rang out in the momentary silence. "Sweet mother of Artemis! What is _wrong_ with you people?"

A tallish woman wearing a headscarf, tunic and skirt that all looked like they had been cut from someone's rug, stepped out of the crowd and turned to glare at them all. Given her tone, I was actually relieved this meant she had her back to Showboat and I; something told me her glare was not something you wanted directed at you.

"We are not savages here!" she declared, as if this needed saying. Given circumstances, it probably did. "How dare you behave like this? And in front of our _cousins_, no less?" She had her fists balled at her sides and planted on her narrow hips. She sounded like she was ready to wade into the crowd and start throwing punches herself.

Instead, she moved to help the elder who had been knocked aside when this mess started. "Are you hurt, grandmother?" she murmured aloud, pointedly ignoring everything and everyone else as she helped the woman back to her unsteady feet. "Someone help her to her seat, please?"

This was no polite request and nearly had both Showboat and me hopping to assist. We proved too slow and a youngish man reached her first, offering his shoulder for the elder to lean upon. He accepted the food pack and water for her and did not leave her side until she was settled at one of the tables, while the rest of us watched in awed silence.

The woman gave herself a sharp nod to this and addressed the crowd again. "Now line up properly and mind yourselves, dammit! We don't need our _cousins_ thinking we're _animals_ here." To my utter amazement the civilians did as exactly as she bade them, reforming into a coherent the line and going completely quiet as they shuffled along.

Delegate Goss stepped out and came to the woman's side. "Thank you, Karissa," he said, just loudly enough for us to overhear. The woman simply nodded and moved to a nearby table, bending down to take the hands of a pair of children - a boy and girl who looked nothing alike - who had taken refuge under the table during the fight.

"You've eaten?" she asked them, receiving silent nods in answer. The boy started rubbing his eyes, evidentially starting to get tired. The girl simply swayed on her feet a bit. "Okay then. Let's go back." She nodded to the Delegate, giving me aglance of her sharp, classical profile. What caught my eye however was the tip of a faded scar on her forehead, the rest of it covered by the scarf. She then led the pair away, the civilians automatically parting way for them as they disappeared back into the ship's corridor beyond.

I managed to get my legs working and moved to the Delegate's side. "Sir? Who was that?"

"Name's Karissa Troy. Used to be a foundry worker or such, I think."

"Weird name," I noted, more to myself than Goss.

He shrugged carelessly. "She's been a help here keeping things from getting too bad here lately."

Before I could respond, I heard the distant chime of the wireless back inside the Raptor sound out. Shaking my head, I sprinted back to the bird and quickly put on the headset. "Racetrack, go."

_"Racetrack, _Galactica _Actual."_

I winced, anticipating bad news from the Admiral. "Go ahead, Actual."

_"I need you back in the barn asap."_

"Should I alert the Delegate...?"

_"Negative. Just get yourself and Showboat back here. If he asks, tell him it's a Presidential order and he'll be picked up later. _Galactica _clear."_

Okay, that was real frakking helpful. Yeah, the Old Man was keeping things close to his vest these days, not to mention running on a short fuse. But ordering us to leave a Quorum Delegate aboard a ship that was the very definition of 'unsafe'? _That_ was something else entirely. Maybe the Old Man was having visions of Starbuck the way his son had.

Well, orders were orders. If anything, these ones prompted me to move that much faster in collecting my ECO and getting out of there. The sooner we were back on _Galactica_ the sooner I might get answers.

It was probably a vain hope, but what other sort had we lived on these last years?

TBC...


	38. Chapter 38

_(Another short interlude. Prepare for Adama!Sap.)_

* * *

**Part 38**

**Battlestar _Galactica  
_Cabin of Admiral William Adama**

**+29:27:01**

_**(Adama)**_

The photos Kara had passed to me had come grouped in no particular order or sequence. It was a jumble of images that told me both a great deal...and entirely too little...of the last two years of her life.

About half of them were evidentially taken in and around a one-story house in some desert, which I could only presume was hers. I distantly recalled Lee, shortly after he'd 'seen' Kara, in his cabin on _Galactica, _related to me the time he'd spent with Kara back on New Caprica. His claim she talked of building a cabin in the forest was hard to credit at the time; among other things, he'd been more than slightly tipsy and almost ranting.

* * *

_Kara standing with the infant Aurora in her arms, helping the child wave at the camera._

_Kara kneeling on a carpeted floor, coaxing the infant Aurora to crawl to her._

_Kara sitting on a small porch swing (its blue clashing with the orange behind it),with Aurora nearly invisible, wrapped in her thick blankets._

_Kara caught at an unguarded moment, painting on a canvas in her front room._

_Kara sitting at a cluttered desk, Aurora held in her lap, the infant reaching towards the keyboard before her._

_Kara, in uniform, selecting a binder from an over-burdened bookshelf, Aurora napping on her shoulder._

_Mother and daughter asleep in a large bed, the former still holding the latter protectively._

_A meal shared between them, Kara wearing as much of it was Aurora was._

_Another meal, even messier and morecolorful this time._

_Aurora engaged with her mother in a tug-of-war for a toy ring._

_The two of them on a carpet of green grass, gazing into the distance._

_Aurora lying on her back in bed, Kara lying beside her, head braced on one hand, other hand rubbing her child's belly._

* * *

I tried to apply some objectivity to the images. A dozen pictures chosen to portray Kara at her best? Were they even genuine and not manufactured for my benefit? What evidence did they give that the child was even hers?

Looking back, I understood what I was doing, questioning the obvious like this.

I had told Richards I did not believe in miracles. I'd dismissed my son's claims of visions as readily as I had Laura's years ago. Whatever faith I'd once held had shattered the same day I witnessed the first step in Cylon evolution.

Now, after I had borne witness that such things were real, holding the proof of it in my hands?

* * *

_Kara lying in a hospital bed in a stark white room, her stomach flat and features relaxed._

_Kara sitting at a long table, Richards standing close by, her features puzzled as she examined a Colonial flight suit and other objects._

_Kara standing at a podium, features set as hard as any time I could remember._

_A hanger, a fighter that roughly resembled a Viper, Kara in Terran uniform standing beside it with a thoughtful expression._

_The same hanger, a different fighter, and Kara bent over a table nearby with two other men in stained coveralls, schematics spread out before them._

_Kara in her TDF dress blues, Aurora in her lap and wearing her beret, the two of them sitting in a Terran Viper's cockpit, both smiling up at the camera._

* * *

I wondered if the would gods accept an apology from a stupid old man at this late date?

I wondered what price would they demand in exchange for the many favors they had given my people all these years?

* * *

_Mother and daughter playing a colorful board game._

_Aurora tugging at the buttons on her mother's uniform jacket, smiling widely and displaying her first teeth._

_Kara watching worriedly as Aurora hauled herself to stand upright, holding onto a bedspread with chubby hands._

_Kara holding a dirty diaper at arms length, her free hand over her nose and mouth._

_Aurora looking up at her mother's beret as it perched on her head, a most serious expression on her face._

_Kara in civilian clothes, Aurora seated in a grocery cart, moving along the brightly lit aisle of boxed foods._

* * *

I'd read the transcripts of Lee's interrogation of Conoy a dozen times over, always missing the clues he'd so slyly included about Aurora. I had been present when we found the Hybrid aboard the _Nemesis, _heard her disjointed prophecies and ignored their import.

How many other clues had been set before me that I'd been too blind to see?

It was a question that needed answering, even if I had no idea where to even begin seeking answers to.

* * *

_Kara and Aurora sitting beside a green tree indoors, its branches heavy with lights and ornaments, packages wrapped in colorful papers underneath it._

_Aurora in her bassinet, head turned to the side, eyes shut and face loose with sleep._

_Aurora sitting in a car seat, sucker firmly in her mouth, head slightly tilted in contemplation of the camera before her._

_Aurora, red and wrinkle-skinned, newly born, resting in a plastic bassinet._

_Kara and Rice seated on either side of Aurora at a table, all three wearing party hats and a small cake with a single candle before them._

_Aurora in an infant seat on a green lawn, a pair of children who resembled Lieutenant Mahn flanking her like an honor guard._

* * *

The pictures told me so much, and yet so very little. I suspected that was by design. There were none of Kara showing or during her pregnancy, which somehow didn't surprise me even as it reassured; Kara Thrace would never allow anyone to witness her weak or infirm; and what was more temporarily debilitating than childbirth.

Then there was the few with other new faces. It was only Rice and Richards, true. The casual nature of the images with them seemed no less staged than the ones with the Vipers. Again, I was neither surprised nor disturbed by these choices. Only fools would have allowed a camera near such sensitive hardware, never mind provide potential blackmail material.

Whatever my misgivings at the pace these events were proceeding, neither Rice nor Richards struck me as particularly foolish, at least when it came to Kara.

I looked over to where Laura lay on my couch, taking a few minutes of rest amid the chaotic preparations for her departure to _Olympus._ We hadn't really had a chance to discuss either the photos or Kara herself, at least not beyond the agreement we wouldn't announce her presence to the fleet just yet.

The decision to send Lee over to see her had been mine originally, although Laura had been supportive. Certainly, he needed a change of pace from racing all around the fleet, laying the groundwork for resupply operations. And just _maybe_ it would pull him out of the shell he'd retreated behind after his...visions...in the Nebula and immediately afterwards; I still wasn't convinced he wasn't simply suffering a temporary post-traumatic breakdown back then, even if there were still a thousand and one questions swirling around Kara's survival.

If finding his best friend was still alive didn't pull him back to himself, well, Laura had been making noise about taking custody of the girls from him for a bit. I'd have to support it, if only for the children's sakes. As good a delegate as he was proving, I feared Lee had inherited my poor parenting skills.

The fact we hadn't heard from Lee since he had shuttled over nine hours ago actually hardened my determination to keep her - and by extension, Aurora - under wraps as long as we possibly could. What would happen when the fleet found out our most celebrated - and long dead - Viper pilot had been among the Terrans almost since she had died?

The longer we could put off the eventuality, the better. Hopefully, Laura's visit to _Olympus_ would serve as enough of a confidence-building gesture to blunt whatever backlash might come.

I would feel even better if we heard from Lee, if only so we knew those two hadn't killed one another.

My wall phone buzzed at that same thought. Picking up the receiver, I said, "Adama."

It was Dualla. "Sir, communication from the _Olympus_. For your ears only."

"Send it over." I mentally braced for another explosion from Richards; I hadn't decided if I was going to remain quiet this time or explode right back.

_"Admiral?"_ It was Lee, sounding anxious but clear-headed.

"Lee?" I blew a relieved breath. Laura shifted and looked over at me. "I'm putting this on speaker." Laura came close and leaned on my desk as I flicked the necessary switch. "Go ahead, Lee."

_"Is the President with you?"_

Laura cleared her throat loudly. "I'm right here, Mr. Adama."

_"Very well. This is for your ears as well."_

"Problems?" the President asked carefully.

_"Not as such, no. But I have met the...person...you directed me to."_ There was just a hint of reproach in his voice. _"A little warning would have helped, but we'll talk about that later. There is something else we need to discuss. Well, that you should be made aware of."_

"We already know about Aurora," I said.

_"I figured."_ He paused, as if gathering strength. _"There's been a decision made you should know about."_

Laura and I shared a look, and then leaned closer to the call box. "What...decision?" the President asked the Delegate.

_"The girls and I will be remaining aboard _Olympus_ for the foreseeable future."_

"May we ask why?" Laura asked for the both of us.

_"Because Kara's here. And I'm not going to let her go again, ever."_

If my son just confessed to being one of the final Cylons, he couldn't have silenced the two of us more effectively.

_"Admiral? Dad?" _he called when there was no response coming. _"You two still there?" _I couldn't even answer that simple question right then. Neither, for that matter, could Laura.

Our mutual expression asked the same question: _Did he just say...?_

TBC...

* * *

_**De Author Seez: **For those wondering why Lee's little announcement comes as such a surprise for these two, I've long gone under the impression (pretty much borne out over the last three seasons) that neither Adama nor Roslin have the least clue of how deep or vital a connection Apollo and Starbuck share. Calling them "clueless" in that respect strikes as something of an understatement. It also makes for good drama, as we see here._

_At least that's my story and I'm sticking to it. See you later in the week._

_In the meantime, that Review button in the lower left corner? Please DON'T be shy about using it! Cheers!_


	39. Chapter 39

_(Another unprompted flashback that's was bouncing around in my head since Part 1. This seems as good a point as any to insert it. That, plus I'm suffering a bit of writer's block. Le sigh. Enjoy.)_**Part 39**

* * *

_**(Richards)**_

**0830 Hours GMT**

**21 July 2069**

_**Heir Meisters**_** Hotel  
****Zurich, Switzerland**

I'd bid a polite 'Good Night' to the Junior Second Minister for Regional Trade and Development from Beijing and his damned entourage. Given we'd spent the last twelve hours locked up in the _Mathias Vespero _room, politely discussing...things...I wasn't entirely sure which of us was more relieved. My bladder at least was starting to ache, and I had lost all feeling in my ass long ago.

The Junior Second Minister might well have been dead from the neck down for all the discomfort _he_ showed by the time we broke up, and he'd drunk more than me. By that point I was too tired to be either envious or offended.

Most of the past four days had been polite discussions about...things...with the Chinese. It served as a nice distraction from thinking about Thrace flying around the 'Belt, which otherwise would have had me pacing my office and glaring at the phone that wouldn't ring to tell me she was back planetside. What other purpose it served I had no idea, given the agenda was vague to say the least, and it did seemed a bit off for the UN Secretary of State to be meeting with someone who technically was four or five steps under him.

Five would get me ten that this was Irene's doing, as a way to keep me occupied until Thrace got back. She was a damned devious wench, our Secretary General, and I was glad she was on our side and _not_ the Euro's.

I made it back to my room without incident or impediment. The security detail made sure I had the floor to myself, along with what little staff that had come with me. Being the smart passenger I'd let them do most of the talking the past few days so as not to cause any undue complications for the Secretariat or mistakenly sell Manhattan for another song and some beads. I just sat back and made a mental game of trying to identify the accents and idioms everyone was using.

It was certainly more productive than pacing and staring at a phone.

* * *

I'd only barely made into my suite - bidding a polite good night to my security and instructing the my staff not to disturb me unless the hotel was on fire - before my legs started to buckle. Somehow, I made it to the plush sofa before collapsing. Toeing off my shoes and fumbling with my tie, it struck me how idiotic I must have looked right then.

Too tired to care anymore, I gave up with the tie and simply flopped back onto the cushions. My eyes closed of their own accord and cemented themselves shut. If fortune favored me for once, the rest of this pointless confab would go on with out me.

This was my last conscious thought for the next three hours, seventeen minutes and forty seconds.

I know this precisely because thatwas when I was shocked awake - and literally off the sofa - by a high-pitched trilling that could only belong to a telephone. Raw adrenaline pushed me to my feet and I grabbed the receiver from the antique rotary phone on the desk several feet away. "Rich..." I started, only to realize it _wasn't_ the one ringing.

Wincing at the shrill noise, I looked around for my staff-issued cellular. Given there hadn't been much call for its use thus far, I had to think where I put the damn thing. It hit me after a few more beats that it was still in my jacket's inner pocket. Embarrassed and for some reason certain it was some Starbuck-related emergency, I pulled it out and snarled, "Rice..."

The cellular was active but silent and the ear-splitting ring was continuing unabated. I looked all about the room, trying to identify the source, deeply confused and equally disturbed at this point.

My eyes fell on my briefcase, which had been left sitting, closed and locked, on the floor behind the desk "Aw, frak..." was my only reaction as it hit me precisely _what_ could be making that godsawful noise. Apparently, it was something far more official than Ted Rice reporting Kara Thrace's latest outrage.

I couldn't help the wince of pain as I opened the case and retrieved another, much smaller cellular from its unobtrusive pocket inside. There was only one party who had its number, and anyone trying to listen in would hear only a mass of white noise. I started to shake, equal parts from burning through the adrenaline burst and anxiety over what I was about to hear.

Hence my momentary confusion when I first tried to answer it. "Thrace...er...Rice..." Giving myself a sharp shake of the head and blowing a small raspberry, I tried again. "Richards."

_"Secretary of State Benjamin Richards?"_ It was an unfamiliar voice, one sounding young and excited.

"Yes, this is Secretary of State Richards."

_"I challenge: Berlin Munich."_

I blinked and wracked my foggy head for the correct response. "Uh, Paris Versailles. Who is this?"

My question was ignored as I was informed, _"The battlestar _Olympus _declared Case ZULU at 1145 hours Greenwich Mean Time."_

I looked over the antique grandfather clock standing nearby and quickly converted the time in my head. "Wait a second. _Olympus _declared Case ZULU?" The words themselves only began to sink in as I repeated them. My shoulders started to shake again, this time from a completely different set of emotions.

_"Admiral Rice is on station, Sir..."_

"I know _that_."

_"...and authentication confirmed. Stand by, Mr. Secretary."_

Not knowing what else to do, I stood by and fought the trembling radiating through me.

_"Mr. Secretary,"_ a more familiar voice spoke.

Anxiety gave my shaking voice unusual strength. "What the hell is going on, Cornwell? Is this for real?"

_"As a heart attack, Sir."_

It then hit me precisely _who_ was aboard _Olympus_ this week, and indirectly responsible for me being sent to Switzerland. "Starbuck is out there."

_"I am aware. Believe me, I'm aware!"_

"Of course you are," I muttered, leaning heavily on the desk. Steeling myself for the worst, I asked, "What's happening?"

_"At the moment, nothing."_

"Explain that."

_"I wish I could. They've reported a basestar jumped into zone. Brace yourself; this happened _after_ they sighted a couple of Colonial Raptors in their area."_

"Wha...?" Now I knew I must be dreaming as Cornwell could _not_ have just said what I thought I'd heard. The slap I applied to my own cheek only confirmed it was anything but.

_"Yeah, that was my reaction. Here's the next weird thing: we haven't had any interruption in telemetry from _Olympus._" _I couldn't see how this was a bad thing, and said so. _"It's not bad," _Cornwell clarified. _"It's just...weird. If they're under attack we'd expect at least some interruption."_

Now I could see where he was going. "Anything new?" Someone started pounding on the suite'sdoor and calling my name. I tuned it out and concentrated on Cornwell's distant voice.

_"Nothing," _He confirmed. Taking a breath, he continued in a more official tone _"The Secretary General and the Secretary of Defense have both been notified and are en route to secure location. Where are you at this moment, Sir?"_

"Somewhere between hysterical paralysis and shocked into a coma," I deadpanned.

_"I mean geographically."_

"Zurich," I answered simply, moving to the doors and undid the lock, only to nearly be knocked over as my two security staffburst in. I threw up a hand, ordering silence and refocusing on the cellular in the other. "What's the protocol for this...situation?"

"Mr. Secretary!" shouted Ivan Harris, my lead staffer, as he came racing in with his own cellular in hand. I threw a furious glare at him, pointing at my own, then towards my briefcase and other papers. Harris got the message and started gathering them up and snapped the case closed.

"Cornwell?" I prompted.

_"Sorry, Mr. Secretary. Had to check the latest readings. Uh, we've usually gamed this having the whole Secretariat in a single location at the time."_"Well obviously that isn't happening here," I observed.

_"Yeah, true," _Cornwell delayed for a moment. _"Hold on...the SecGen has been confirmed to be in _Babylon._ The SecDef is...hell."_

"What?"

"_He's under sedation, in Hong Kong."_

"And that's a bad thing?" I snapped my fingers to Harris and pointed towards the bedroom. What good were staffers if you couldn't have them do your packing in a pinch?

_"It means I'm short an intermediate authority...we're running almost blind here. The rest of the Fleet is on High Alert and I'm secure under the Octagon."_

I waved the additional staffers who were filing in to remain silent. "And the Secretary General is secured?" I asked, just loudly enough for them to hear but otherwise blocked out their presence.

"_Its confirmed as of…1158 GMT. I'm conferencing her in…now."_ There was a small _whoosh _of electronic air. _"Madam Secretary General, are you there?"_

"_I am," _Irene Bernice Winterhill confirmed in her usual clipped tone. _"Secretary Richards?"_

"I'm here. Undersecretary Cornwell has informed meof Case ZULU." I turned from the staff and security milling about the room and looked to the bay window opposite us. The sun was high over the snow-capped peaks, the city itself below them, and the sky overhead was clear, blue, and seemingly endless. The proverbial calm before the storm descended upon us all.

How soon before that same sky was filled with Raiders and mushroom clouds, I wondered distantly, surprised at how calm I felt.

Irene's voice cut through my contemplation. _"Richards, with Secretary Baker presently incapacitated, you'll be second-line authority for the time being. Understood?"_

"Yes, ma'am. Shall I prepare for transport to Geneva?" It would be a half-hour flight at worst, I figured. Then, we could all be reduced to radioactive cinders by then.

"_Negative,"_ Irene declared. _"I want you up on the _Bouhucahn._"_

"Not with you?"

"_Correct. We need someone up there who can take over if…well…"_

My stomach churned at the contingency she left unvoiced. Swallowing around the lump that formed in my larynx, I stated "Understood."

"_Sir, Ma'am?" _Cornwell piped up. _"I'm having a courier shuttled directed to Zurich International. The flight pattern has been approved by Brussels, but they're asking questions I'm not sure I can answer from here."_

Irene ordered, _"Inform Brussels I will call them personally as soon as we're finished here. If they continue to insist, inform them of the Case ZULU and that all available data will be forthcoming. Contact the relevant principals from the rest of the Security Council, and open a line to Beijing directly. I don't want to have to explain this more than once. How soon before the courier is on the tarmac?" _

"_ETA Zurich, ten minutes. ETA _Bouhuchan, _fifteen after that."_

"_Richards? Get moving."_

"Yes, ma'am," I hissed. "SecState signing off." I cut the connection, noting the phone had timed the entire conversation at nine minutes, forty seconds exactly. Would that have been enough for either the Chinese or the EU or someone else to crack the scramble-signal? Not my problem.

I turned to the men and women standing behind me, all watching me expectantly. It was likely the room was bugged, but they needed to know something. "Ivan, inform the Chinese delegation that I've been called away and that Beijing will be informed of the reasons shortly. In my absence you and the rest are to continue these talks."

"Any special instructions, Sir?" Harris asked for them all.

"No," I shook my head. "Continue on as we have. Try to reach some resolution we can take back to Geneva. I'm trusting you all to not overstep yourselves here."

Harris nodded gravely. "Understood, Mr. Secretary." The kid should be sitting in my chair; something I was going to make clear to Irene when this was all finished. _If _it ever finished.

Refocusing on the present, I looked to my security detail. "We have transport ready?"

"The chopper is on the roof, Mr. Secretary."

"Okay, let's go." I picked up the briefcase and followed them out, leaving the rest of my luggage – at least the physical sort – behind. We were on the roof's helipad a few minutes later.

Once there, I couldn't help but pause and look upwards into the clear sky once more. Would this be the last time I would feel the sun on my face or breathe fresh air? For some reason, _that_ prospect proved infinitely more frightening to me than the fact I – who suffered from bouts of acrophobia – would soon be leaving Earth's atmosphere for the first time.

At both my security and pilot's urgings, I boarded the helicopter, clutching my briefcase to my chest and making sure _not_ to look out the window as we lifted off into that same clear sky.

TBC…_instantaneously!_


	40. Chapter 40

__

(Still blocked, but the pilots decided to tickle the muse some more. Pilot!Madness follows.)

* * *

**Part 40**

**Battlestar **_**Olympus  
**_**Cabin of Colonel Kara Thrace**

**+28:35:07 **

_**(**_**Starbuck/**_**Apollo)**_

The son of a bitch was frakking _posing_ when I came back in.

There was no other explanation for why he would _still_ be standing in _my_ bedroom, _patting_ himself dry with just _one_ towel and making _no_ effort to cover up. Especially not the very, very…_stiff_…part of him that…was…

Not that the view wasn't…nice…but…still…he…uh…

Well, the view was nice. Even if the son of a bitch was…_posing_…as if he'd… we'd… manage…

Well, the view was nice. Real, real nice. Nice enough that I…forgot how…sore…I'd been feeling a minute ago…

Ugh. I was going to kill him.

Oh, I was going to find us a priest or priestess, make Aurora legitimate, sign all the paperwork for Kasey and Paya and all that _before_ we set even one foot back in Nevada or Wisconsin or wherever we ended up.

_Then_ I was going to kill him.

After which I would drag him back across Styx, just as he'd promised to do to me, and drag him back to life. Then I would _kill_ him all over again.

Then I would drag him back _again_, because there was _no_ frakking way in Tartarus I was letting the frakker off the hook _that_ easily!

I'd been standing there for a full minute, him knowing full well I was there glaring at that…real…real…nice…clear…view…of…him…and _him _pointing at me…before he decided to look up.

And he grinned, the frakker!

* * *

_I grinned, because I literally couldn't think what else to do with her standing there and me fresh out of the shower. _

_It had been too long since I'd had a shower with soap and shampoo that wasn't some scentless algae by-product. I'd lingered a good while longer than__I intended under the hot spray, which sadly brought all sorts of fantasies to mind and caused – amazingly – certain parts of me to spring back to life._

_I had really expected to be finished by the time she got back, hence my having grabbed only one towel. I sure as Hades hadn't expected to still be that…stiff…when she returned._

_The way she was looking…glaring…at me both above…especially _below_ the beltline was starting to make me…nervous. _

_I mean, surely she didn't think we could…well…_

_Not that I'd object necessarily…really…well…_

"_Like the view?" _

_I knew I'd stepped over it or on it or whatever the instant the words were out of my mouth. Kara's eyes never got that big, that wide, unless they were immediately going to…_

_Yup, those eyes narrow down like a battlestar's firing solution, _again. _Focused in on _me _and nothing else._

_She had me sweating again, touching me with nothing other than those damned eyes._

_Frak! She was going to frakking kill me._

* * *

I was chewing my upper lip. Then my lower lip.

It was either that or I'd start screaming.

I would be screaming _his_ name. Loud enough that the whole damn deck would hear.

While I'd willingly be doing so under most any other conceivable – and more than a few inconceivable – circumstances…right then I couldn't…except I could…and I would unless…

I wrenched my eyes upwards, _above_ the beltline and _away_ from that too-stiff, too-tempting part of him…over that body that belonged in a museum…up up up over shining, flawless skin…

Big mistake…huge, battlestar-sized mistake, because then I could see _only_ his eyes. Those godsbedamned blue eyes of his that had gone all smoky and dark and inviting and so frakking irresistible…

My fingers, wholly and utterly of their own initiative, started fumbling with the buttons of my jacket. I'd have felt better about this if those eyes weren't egging me on… challenging me…frak!..._ordering_ me…

My fingers kept working, even when he looked away, like he _didn't_ need to see what he was doing to me.

Of course he didn't. The last nine hours had pretty much proven beyond all shadow of any possible doubt exactly _who_ was in charge here.

It sure as Hades wasn't _me._

Why didn't that scare me stupid like it used to?

* * *

_She was really, really starting to scare me now._

_It had taken all my willpower to wrench away from those godsbedamned eyes of hers. But not before she had pulled her jacket off._

_I didn't see her pulling off the rest. I didn't need to. I could _hear_ it…cloth sliding over smooth, tawny, sun-touched skin I'd spent the last nine hours touching…exploring…in ways I'd only ever dreamed…dreamed a lifetime ago…_

_I wanted to scream for her to stop! _

_  
Hearing each piece of fabric hit the floor was like a thunderclap in my head. Drowning out any objection I could think of._

_Frak! Frak! Frak! Frak!_

_I was going to collapse the second she touched me with something _other _than just eyes! She'd be frakking a corpse. _

_A corpse with a hard-on and the biggest shit-eating smile possible._

_Gods, please..._

* * *

I dropped the last of my uniform and peeled my panties off, taking a few layers of skin with them. I nearly came right there, my clit hard as he was and even more sensitive for it.

It took a lot of deep breaths to calm down enough to take even a single step forward. My gaze was riveted/focused/cemented on that perfectly formed chest I used to ogle in the showers on _Galactica..._when I could get away with it...which wasn't nearly often enough...

My fingers nearly started drifting again, down into my curls...like they would in the showers on _Galactica..._when I could get away with it...which wasn't nearly often enough...

Lee looked back at me right then, freezing me, still as stone.

His eyes narrowed, perfect lips curving down. I blushed under that not-glare, shoulders and hips shaking. My fingers still hovered where they were, tips almost brushing my pubes, my clit exposed to the biting air that breezed between us.

I couldn't meet his eyes, even though I could _feel_ them uponme. Wherever they fell, that patch of skin burned and blushed. He was my sun, my god.

As Aurora called the dawn, so Apollo called _me_.

My feet moved independently of my mind. I was no longer in control here.

As it should be.

* * *

_What was she...doing...?_

_Where the frak was my head with a frakking stupid question like that?_

_She was coming for what was hers. Perfectly frakking obvious._

_Oh! Oh! Oh!_

_Oh! Oh! Oh! _

_The second she touched me, I was going to die. I was going to frakking die...if she didn't frakking touch me..._

_Why wouldn't she say something...anything...I didn't know what that look was...what she meant..._

_Why was she bowing her head like that...what was she looking at...?_

_Oh! Oh! Oh! _

_Oh...of course, she was looking at...that..._

_I was so frakking pathetic...I couldn't figure it out all on my own. _

_So she glanced up at me...just as I look down...at that...because I'm so frakking pathetic I'm starting to tremble..._

_I'll start begging her to touch me any second...knowing she'll never touch me again...when she sees how frakking pathetic I am for her..._

_Oh! Oh! Oh! _

* * *

I'm so calm now. It was so...natural...to let him lead me...he didn't touch me, didn't need to touch me...

Not with hands...I looked up, ready for anything...

Even him looking down at that same moment.

He didn't need to say or do more. I _understood_.

Without pause, I lowered to my knees, the floor hard on my knees. I bit my lip again, fighting to calm my breathing again...pressing my legs together like this...pressing my clit this tight...

I had to bow my head, like a supplicant...his supplicant...my breathing still uneven...I didn't dare try more...

He remained still, patient and powerful, towering over me.

How long ago had this been decreed by the gods it should be this way, between us?

My mind stilled, my breathing evened out perfectly.

I took him between my lips, into my mouth.

I groaned in time with him, as we did and would do all things now.

* * *

_My heart twisted and shuddered as surely as my lungs trembled and exploded. I couldn't breathe, couldn't move...all my body and being...shuddered and clarified..._

_All that I was and would be was hers. _

_I clutched the towel around my neck, the weave biting into my palms, burning my neck..._

_Oh, gods...was this what Elysium was?_

"_Gods...Kara...is this what...what do you want?"_

_Where the frak did that come from?_

_Ahhhhh..._

_Where did her mouth go?_

* * *

_I_s this what I want?

Where the frak did that come from?

I pulled back, his taste still on my lips, my tongue wet from him. Ambrosia wasn't as sweet.

But I pulled back, craning my neck upwards.

Is _this_ what _I _want?

Sure, Lee. I want to frakking break my kneecaps, kneeling on my bathroom floor, worshiping your frakking tool like...like...like I don't frakking know what!

IS _THIS _WHAT _I _WANT?

Frakking idiot!

I stood back up, knees aching and eyes blazing.

Those eyes...those frakking eyes...what did those frakking beautiful eyes _see_ that made them widen so?

* * *

_She was a goddess rising, fury knocking me backwards onto my ass, leaving me on the toilet cover. I couldn't look away from those eyes._

_Those frakking beautiful eyes._

_Even as they burnt me to a crisp, I didn't...wouldn't...couldn't look away._

_She reached out, taking the ends of the towel from my hands. My own hands fell away, palms aching to touch her._

_Those eyes, those frakking beautiful eyes...they told me a simple enough command: _

_Touch and you die. _

_If it were just me...just the two of us...I might just touch...and die without complaint..._

_But it wasn't _just _the two of us. _

_That thought died the instant she straddled me...the tip, _just _the tip, of me just brushing her curls...nearly sending me over..._

_She jerked the towel once, hard...hard enough so our noses nearly touched...her breath burning my lips, tickling my beard...her nipples brushing my chest, surely leaving scars there, they were so hard..._

_Those lips, those perfect lips...they stole all my breath I nearly tumbled into darkness..._

* * *

One brush of our lips was nearly enough to undo me...

It took all my will...all the control I had and would ever have...to keep from just sinking onto him...taking him wholly and completely as only I could...

But I held him there and held myself there.

I taunted him, taunted myself, taunted the gods themselves...shifting my hips ever...so...slightly...his tip brushing me...nearly enough...nearly too much...

"_This_...is...what...I...want...Lee...you...frakker..." I breathed and panted and growled and snarled and sneered and moaned and groaned and claimed with each...pass...over...him...

I pulled him to me, sinking down, invading and filling his mouth as fully as he did my body.

We breathed and panted and growled and snarled and sneered and moaned and groaned and claimed each other as one.

It was lifetime upon lifetime, all that we were...together...

We breathed as one, our hearts beating in time.

If this was all that we were, all that we could ever be, all that the gods would allow us to be...

I let go of the towel, wrapping my arms around his neck and burying my nose in his thick hair, breathing his scent. His arms came around me in turn, loose and immovable.

Frak the gods. Frak fate. Frak destiny.

It would never be enough. _Never._

* * *

_I wanted this. For all the rest our lives. But if this was all there was..._

_Lords of Kobol, hear my prayer. If sacrifice is needed, take me. But don't touch her. Don't touch our girls._

_Touch _any_ of them, and I'll bring frakking Mount Olympus down around your collective ears._

_Glad we understand each other._

* * *

Everything shifted back into place, in body and mind. I stood up, steadier than I had any right to be, leaving him behind and feeling empty once more. It was almost enough to stop me.

But only almost.

I kept our foreheads together, our breath intermixed.

"Clean yourself up," I breathed. "Get dressed. Call your dad."

I stilled whatever he might have said with a final kiss. "Be done by the time I'm out."

* * *

_I tried to laugh but couldn't work up the breath. "Or what?"_

* * *

I answered him with my back, stepping into the shower and switching on the water.

No words possible...or necessary.

* * *

"_Hate me?" I called. _

_Gods I was pathetic._

* * *

"Can't hear you!"

Gods, could we get _more_ pathetic?

* * *

"_I'll take that as a 'yes'," I mused breathlessly, standing up unsteadily and leaning on the sink. Wetting a washcloth, I wiped myself as clean as possible as quickly as possible. It seemed almost blasphemous to do so...but at this point, I feared the sound of running water stopping than anything the gods might pull._

_Drying myself faster this time, I quickly pulled on my pants and shirt, moving to pick up the wall phone as I did so. Somehow, I managed to do all three successfully._

_I held the phone between my shoulder and ear as I did up my shirt buttons. "This is Representative Adama," I said into it, finishing with my shirt and looking around for my socks. "Can you understand me?" The crewmember who answered acknowledged the question in the affirmative. "I need a secure line to _Galactica_ Actual, please."_

_Assured it was being done, I finished dressing while the connection was being made, trying to compose myself enough to speak rationally and sensibly to the Admiral. It proved surprisingly easy._

_As did the words that came next._

* * *

I shut off the water; half hoping Lee had listened to me for a change. Peeking out of the shower, I found myself a bit disappointed he'd done exactly that. Pity, as I'd actually been looking forward to _punishing_ him, though I had no clue what that would have entailed.

With an ambivalent sigh, I exited the shower and grabbed the towel hanging nearby, rubbing myself quickly and efficiently while making sure to keep away from my personal 'hot spots'. Doubtless, I'd be aching plenty from all this in the next few hours, so there was no sense if aggravating it; all the aggravation one could want or need was in the next room.

Speaking of whom, I nudged the door open a bit wider and listened carefully to Lee's discussion with the phone.

"Because Kara's here. And I'm not going to let her go again, ever."

That silver tongued devil. I grinned, feeling warm in all the right places.

"Admiral? Dad? You two still there?"

Oh wonderful. We'd just _killed _the fleet's leadership. All I could do was roll my eyes...and bite my tongue as he said, "_Because_ I'm claiming Familiar Rights based on the First Covenant."

He was doing _WHAT_?

TBC...

* * *

**De Author Seez: **_What can I say? The pilots refuse to stay quiet for very long. I'm also starting to wonder if I shouldn't switch the rating on this story. Hope you enjoyed as much as they did. Please use the Review button bellow to let me know if you did._

_I should also mention this is likely it for the week. Like I've said, I'm suffering writer's block on the next couple chapters (these two were originally 40 and 41). Hopefully I'll be over it shortly. Have a good week in the meantime._


	41. Chapter 41

**Part**** 41**

**Battlestar **_**Olympus  
**_**Conference Delta**

**+28:51:44 **

_**(Helo)**_

The latest updates came in, reporting resupply was essentially finished, stocks from both containerships depleted. The whole thing had gone so smoothly I felt a bit guilty that I had been little more than an observer. Oh sure, my input had been sought on which ships should get priority and who should be contacted on each, but that was the extent of it. The rest of my time was spent drinking their coffee, eating military rations I could get fat from, and resisting the urge to call _Nemesis_ every ten minutes.

Avery-Hunter and Admiral Rice had shown considerable restraint in questioning me, even indirectly, about anything relating to the fleet. Kara had probably filled them in years back, so maybe this was understandable. Then again, maybe they were just being polite and biding their time. They certainly didn't seem shy conversing in their own language in my presence, resorting to some guttural version of Standard only when necessary.

I didn't wish to push things trying to question them myself. The Admiral hadn't directed me to try it anyway, and I had no idea where to start even with the basestar-sized opening Secretary Richards had left in the wake of his press conference aboard _Galactica._ I'm sure I wasn't alone in harboring a few doubts about his description of Earth or his promises there would be no demands upon us to integrate.

What I wouldn't have given to be able to talk to Kara for just an hour. I hadn't wanted to push there either, especially not after I'd heard Apollo was aboard. But Lee _needed_ his time with her first; I knew this and understood it, probably better than either he or the Admiral.

Then again it had been nearly nine ship hours since I'd spat coffee at the Commodore. Given there had been no medical alerts or the like sounded, one could assume Apollo and Starbuck hadn't done each other any damage; well, any _serious_ damage. Those two could write a book on leaving invisible scars on each other.

* * *

Rather than contemplate whether I would ever see my friend again, I turned my attention to the rest of the room. Even with operations winding down as it was, there didn't seem to be any slowing in the pace of the men and women around me. If anything, they appeared even more tense than when we'd started out. Admiral Rice was talking on the wall phone while Commodore Avery-Hunter was huddled in discussion with a couple ofcrewmen.

I was ready to take a break to the head when the Admiral settled the phone back onto its cradle, doing so with the utmost and absolute control of someone trying _not_ to simply slam it down. He hadn't struck me as a particularly violent or short-tempered man; anyone who had ridden herd on a scared and unpredictable Starbuck for two years would have had to cultivate patience out of sheer necessity. His apparent distress was even morestriking by the glare he threw in my direction before pulling the Commodore aside. The quiet, unknown words that passed between them were enough to have the younger man look equally shocked and dismayed.

The Commodore dismissed his subordinates and the two advanced on me. I didn't sense any real hostility from them, but it was clear from their mutual non-expressions they weren't happy. I wondered what Kara – and really, who else could be responsible? - had done or said this time to get everyone pissed at her.

I quickly stood up and came to attention, despite the relative informality involved here. "Sirs?" I asked preemptively.

"At ease, Major," Admiral Rice nodded. I relaxed just a hair, not sitting back down until the two of them did. Another indecipherable look passed between them before the Admiral spoke again. "Major, you should be aware that Delegate Adama and Colonel Thrace have...resurfaced."

"Are they...?"

"Fine, apparently. Both of them are...intact."

I unconsciously blew out a relieved breath. "Good news." Then another thought hit. "They aren't in Life Station are they?"

Rice frowned. "Life Sta...oh. Our term for it is 'Sick Bay'. And no, neither of them had to be admitted. At least not yet."

"I'm sorry, Sir. I don't understand."

"Makes three of us..." the Commodore muttered aloud, quickly silenced by his superior's pointed look. I noted it wasn't a glare, not really, and more like one of shared sympathy. Very odd.

"Major," the Admiral growled, once again focusing my attention on him. "The Colonel just communicated a somewhat...odd request to us, via Secretary Richards."

"Sir?"

"She's asking us to assign guest quarters to Delegate Adama and his children here aboard _Olympus_." I blinked in surprise, which was passing at best. "You don't seem too shocked by this, Major."

"Um," I hummed. "I'm more surprised they waited so long..."

"Excuse us?" Avery-Hunter snickered.

"Uh." I was thinking hard how to explain something as..._complicated_...as Apollo and Starbuck. No easy task given I had no idea how much or how little Kara had imparted to them during her time with them. "Uh, how much has Kara...has Colonel Thrace told you about...them?"

"Kara has, reportedly, tended to work Delegate Adama's name into conversation at the oddest moments," Admiral Rice explained. "Mainly in the form of cursing him and his entire line. I take it that doesn't sound too far off the mark?"

"Uh, no. No, Sir." I frowned. "You say 'reportedly', Sir?"

"According to her aide, Lieutenant Mahn. Neither the Commodore nor myselfhere have seen as much of her over the last year."

"Ah."

"Yes, Major. 'Ah' indeed." The Admiral sighed. "A lot of said cursing tends to revolve around her daughter..."

He stopped at the sight of my expression, which must have perfectly mirrored the fact my heart and breathing stopped dead at the last two words. "You didn't know?" he asked, truly and honestly surprised, although I only barely heard it.

"Uh," was the only vocalization I could manage.

My neck was locked as solid as _Galactica's_ deck plates, so shaking or nodding my head was out of the question. My eyes drifted to the floor as my mind tried, and failed, repeatedly, to process those two words. The Terran officers politely did not comment on my obvious and absolute distress.

"Major? Major!" Avery-Hunter all but barked after a few more moments. My eyes snapped back to focus on them. "You really _didn't _know she was pregnant at the time of her...departure?"

"Not a clue, Sir." I looked down at the table between us. "I...she'd been getting distant from everyone back then. I couldn't even get her interested in Triad at that point..."

I racked my memories for something, any possible clue I had missed back then. However, between Hera getting a mild case of asthma and the disasters that were our daily lives, I really hadn't seen much of her. Even our short meeting in the head, where I'd made my idiotic suggestion of her seeing that Oracle in Dogsville, hadn't made that big an impression. Then again, I had been working on just four hours sleep in the last forty, so she could have been talking with visions herself and I wouldn't have noticed.

My thoughts then turned to our first meeting with Secretary Richards aboard _Olympus_, Sharon's brief mention of "abdominal scarring". I had been so distracted by the photographic record of Kara's arrival on Earth – funny how I hadn't once questioned the authenticity of it – Zarek could have started a strip-dance routine and I wouldn't have noticed.

A daughter? Kara had a daughter now. Well, that explained why the Old Man looked so damned shell shocked when he'd returned to the meeting, and why he had suddenly gone limp on the subject of Kara staying on _Olympus_.

Even so, it didn't entirely explain, at least in my mind, why Kara wasn't willing to so much as visit _Galactica_. If anything, the little Buck would likely have the ship wrapped around her little finger before they got her off the flight deck.

I couldn't help but wonder how Hera would react to her new 'cousin'. I wondered what her name was. I wondered…

"Major?" Admiral Rice's gentle voice shook me back to myself. Frak, how long had I been sitting there in a daze. "Major, we need to know."

"Sir?"

"About Delegate Adama and Colonel Thrace."

"Ah," I started, and then stopped dead. "Its, um, difficult to summarize, Admiral. Those two have a history that's…well, difficult to, um, define or describe…"

"Try." For a moment, Rice sounded like the Old Man at his most tolerant.

"They've known each other, well, pretty much forever. They were in the Academy at the same time, although I heard Kara and her mother lived on Caprica for a while near Lee and his parents; I don't know if they ever actually met back then. After they graduated, Kara stayed on as a flight instructor and Lee went to a Viper wing in space. You know Kara was engaged to marry Lee's younger brother at one time, right?" Rice nodded, while Avery-Hunter stayed still. I pressed on. "Well, after he was killed in a training accident, they…they both came apart a little. I think they…saw…each other once after that. Neither of them would talk about it.

"After that, Kara was assigned to _Galactica_ by Admiral Adama personally. As far as I know, she and Lee didn't talk or see each other for two years, right up to the day of the attacks. Then they were friends again and wing-mates. Fought each other nearly as often as we were flying against the Cylons."

"Lovers?" the Commodore asked bluntly, to which I could only shrug.

"I think they had an affair while they were married, to other people, that is." I smirked. "Gods know they provided plenty of gossip the way they routinely laid into each other. I think there's still a betting pool going around about them."

"About what?" Rice asked.

"About how exactly many times they'd been what we call 'riding the stick'."

"Geez," the two Terrans groaned, almost as one.

"Yeah, that's the general sense of it." I didn't tell them that the pool in question had resulted in the two rook pilots who'd dreamt it up getting beaten, badly, by persons unknown when it became known. It hung around only out of a collective, perverse fascination with the subject. If the Old Man or Tigh knew about it, they weren't talking.

Rice shook his head and quietly asked, "How did Adama take Thrace's…disappearance, Major?"

"Her _death_, Sir," I corrected tightly. "Her ship blew up in front of him, with her flying right into a storm system and talking to him just two seconds before it exploded." I had to huff a couple times to calm down; damn, but just _thinking_ about it still got to me. Somehow, I had gone nearly two days looking through a pile of evidence to the contrary without actually having to _think_ about it.

"Sorry, Sirs. I…it was hard on everyone. And Lee, he just…just switched off, turned into someone different." I sighed, not wanting to recount how many times I had reached out to him, the silence of a total stranger being my only answer. I had taken posting on _Nemesis_ as much to put distance from Lee as to escape reminders of Kara.

"Is he a danger to her?"

Now there was _the_ question of the moment, one I really had no idea how to answer. Lee had perfected dedication-to-duty-slash-self-neglect into a true art form. Even his adoption of the girls hadn't seemed to make much of a dent in his preoccupation. Gods alone knew how he would handle a living, breathing Kara Thrace.

_Kara Thrace with a daughter_, I mentally amended, wincing at the prospects of what a miniature Starbuck would entail.

"I don't know," was my honest answer. "I don't want to think so, but…" I sighed, memories of the last Dance they'd attended coming to mind.

And how Kara looked like she'd been sucker-punched when I ran into her during the Scar hunt then saw Apollo in the same bad shape a few minutes later.

And the stories of them coming to blows after Colonial Day, whatever caused _that_ one.

And that afternoon during our second year when they'd stepped into the ring, after that too wild party the previous evening when Lee had shared a sloppy kiss with some redhead.

"It's probably not a good idea to room them together," I ventured at length.

The Commodore nodded. "Good thing we weren't planning on it then."

I could only shrug again and look into my long empty coffee mug, lost again as if I had never gotten off Caprica.

TBC…

* * *

_De Author Seez: _Tha...tha...that's it folks! Nothing more to see here.

Just kidding. No flames or hate mail please! But seriously there will be a dramatic downturn in updates for the time being. I'm afraid I'm a tad burnt out on this one and have a pile of other stories to work on. Expect some original and not-so-original work coming soon.

Again, no flames or hate mail if you please. Reviews would be nice however, if only to tell me this all sucks and I should get a real job. The Muse seems to respond better when its being insulted. Go figure.


	42. Chapter 42

**Part 42**

**Transcript of President Roslin's Press Conference  
****16 Lybrana, 2044 PC (Post-Colonization)  
****29.55 Ship Hours post-Jump**

**President Roslin: **Good day, everyone. I have a statement to make for the fleet, after which I will take questions.

(General murmurs)

**President Roslin: **I realize there has been a considerable amount of speculation going around about our Terran cousins and what negotiations, if any, have been going on since they announced their presence to us over a day ago. I promise I will address those rumors as best and as clearly as I can here shortly. First, however, I would like to extend my thanks to the crews of the battlestars _Olympus_ and _Asgard_, and to the container ships _Elsinore _and _Kalaallit_ for the incredible generosity they have shown in providing us all much needed supplies and assistance.

(General murmurs)

**President Roslin: **I would further like to thank UN Secretary of State Benjamin Richards for having taken the first step in greeting us here, and for his candor with us. I hope his words and the information he has made available to us has helped put your minds at ease, as they have mine.

(General murmurs)

President Roslin: That said, I'll now update you on negotiations. While the United Nations has given a promise of safe harbor for our people, one that was given to Commander Tigh aboard the _Nemesis _shortly after their making contact with the _Olympus_, its been agreed that a more permanent settlement is both appropriate and necessary. To that end, there have been a series of discussions between myself, Secretary Richards, and members of the Senior Committee of the Quorum concerning our people's long-term presence here in this system. These discussions have taken place aboard both Galactica and Colonial_ One_. Secretary General Winterhill, the elected head of the United Nations, has likewise been involved via wireless.

While no firm time-lines have been agreed upon, there is presently a consensus between the Quorum of Twelve and the UN Secretariat that our people be allowed to settle on Earth. The details for this settlement are presently being worked out between the UN and ourselves. I should note that Secretary Richards' has admitted he -- misspoke during his first press conference as to where we will initially be landed. There are areas beyond Wisconsin that might be used. Discussions on that score have only just begun.

On the issue of continued aid, Secretary Richards and Secretary General Underhill have both given assurances that there will be no interruption in provisions or aid while these negotiations are ongoing. Three additional container ships are in-bound, as is an engineering vessel with a dedicated repair crew. Secretary Richards has explained that these ships, while they will be operating under UN direction, are in fact in the service of other political powers on Earth. In order to minimize whatever friction might arise, Secretary General Underhill herself is in-bound aboard the Terran battlestar _Bouhuchan._

As a demonstration of trust in our Terran cousins, and with the concurrence of Admiral Adama, I have agreed to a request that Delegate Lee Adama and his children stay aboard the battlestar _Olympus _for the near future. Mr. Adama, as I'm sure you're all aware, has been instrumental in organizing the disbursement of supplies throughout out fleet. With this work now well underway, it is the feeling of the Admiral and myself that Mr. Adama will serve both his constituents and the fleet best by serving as our spokesperson there.

However, he will not remain there alone. Shortly, I will be shuttling over to the _Olympus_ for further discussions with Secretary Richards. Immediately upon her arrival in our local space, I will meet with the Secretary General

(General murmurs)

I promise everyone listening that no final agreement will be made or signed without the majority consent of the fleet. We have come so far, endured so much _together as one people_, and we will not break from that now. Yes, our exodus is nearly at an end, but that last step has yet to be taken. In addition, I swear to you all, before the Twelve Lords who have guided us here, we will take it _together_.

That all said, I'll now entertain a couple questions. Just a couple -- yes, Greath?

**Margareeth Cayam: **Madam President, has Secretary Richards, um, misspoken on anything else?

**President Roslin: **Um, I think my choice of words were a bit poor there. Secretary Richards wasn't lying when he stated there was land set aside in Wisconsin. He simply, well, failed to note there are several other settlement sites that could be made available. As I said, no firm details have been decided here, and from what I've seen so far, Wisconsin is certainly not the worst place we could land.

**Maragreeth Cayam: **Will details of these -- proposed sites be made available --

**President Roslin: **As I've said, _everything_ will be made available to the fleet in due time, and absolutely nothing will be decided without a majority vote from all our people.

Next question? Um, yes, over there.

**Robin Toryn: **When will members of the Colonial press be allowed aboard the Terran ships?

**President Roslin: **This is something I will discuss with Secretary Richards when I see him next. Yes? Is that you, Hal?

**Halbarr Speeri: **Um, yes.

**President Roslin:** Congratulations on your son's birth.

**Halbarr Speeri:** Um, thank you, ma'am. My question involves some, um, odd rumors that have been circulating out of the _Nemesis_ --

**President Roslin:**Ah. If this is about Commander Tigh being indisposed and unreachable for comment, I've received assurances from Major Agathon that he has _not_ fallen back into the bottle and that the Commander is simply ill right now --

**Halbarr Speeri:** Well, that's -- um -- that's not it.

**President Roslin:** If it's about the crew seeing phantom Centurions again, I'm not --

**Halbarr Speeri: **Odd you should say that, ma'am. Some of the crewmembers I've spoken with are saying they saw Captain Kara Thrace among the Terrans they initially made contact with.

**President Roslin:** I -- what?

**Halbarr Speeri:**Captain Kara Thrace. In fact, there have been stories that it was Starbuck herself who made the initial contact. Can you speak to those rumors?

**President Roslin:** I, uh -- just a moment.

(Indistinct murmurs near the President's microphone)

**President Roslin:** What? Now?

**Berry Talyn:** Right now, ma'am.

**President Roslin:**Okay, hold him there. Ladies and gentlemen, I have to cut this short. Admiral Adama is requesting my immediate presence. Berry here will schedule the next conference for us. Thank you all.

(Loud murmurs)

**Halbarr Speeri:**Ms. Talyn, can you tell us anything about this?

**Berry Talyn:** Sorry, people. I can only say the President will make all information available to you as soon as possible. That's it.

(Loud murmurs)

(Channel cut)

_TBC..._


	43. Chapter 43

**Part**** 43**

**Battlestar **_**Olympus  
**_**Medical Bay One**

**+29:15:09 **

_**(Apollo)**_

Kara had stormed out of the head and out of her cabin without so much as a word or glance in my direction. She had pushed past me with a not-at-all-subtle collision with my shoulder, but otherwise ignored my presence entirely. I'd held my tongue and simply hustled to keep up with her; no easy feat, even if she wasn't making a concerted effort to lose me. I'd had an easier time keeping up with her wraith back in the Ionian Nebula than in those corridors.

I'd held no illusions that she'd heard the relevant part of my call to _Galactica_. The fact she hadn't come storming out of the head and rammed my head into the bulkhead was most definitely _not_ a good sign. She was saving it up, and all I could do was pray to keep the girls from seeing the explosion that was going to result.

What crew we encountered were quick to press themselves against the bulkheads with no order or warning needed. I had to wonder how long she'd terrorized this ship if they were reacting _this_ quickly.

A quick detour to one of the Conference Rooms one deck below us yielded the girls, who were under the watchful eyes of Kara's aide. The Terran lieutenant actually looked ready to draw on us both and leave our trio orphaned; she had the harried-slash-desperate look Cally seemed to live with these days. Low words were exchanged between Kara and herself, respectful sounding ones perhaps, but the underlying energy wasn't easily missed.

The girls themselves all looked ready for a change of scenery. Paya was up and about for once, while Kacey was rubbing her eyes and scowling at the floor. Aurora – it was so easy to accept the name, it almost felt like a sin to do so – was just waking from a nap and struggling to all fours. All three looked up when we entered, with Paya and Aurora breaking into smiles and Kacey scowling even harder.

"You go'way," Kacey accused.

"Yeah, yeah. We went away," Kara agreed tiredly. She quickly plucked Aurora up and cradled her to her shoulder, then turned to address Paya. "Hiya. I'm Kara."

Paya nodded slowly. "You know who I am?" The child nodded again. "Good. You, Kacey an' your dad are staying aboard here." She turned to Kacey. "That means we're going to be spending a lot of time together here. Understood, nuggets?"

It was Kacey's turn to nod. "Yeah."

"Good. Kacey, I am going to carry Paya today. You are going with your dad and we are all going to see the doctor here. Making sure you two are okay. Then we're going to all sit down here and figure stuff out. Okay?"

"Okay," both my girls agreed aloud.

"Right," Kara nodded, picking up Paya with her free arm, then rising and leaving the room altogether, sparing her aide a low bark that sounded like a dismissal. I didn't linger, quickly picking up Kacey myself and following Kara out. I very nearly lost sight of her, but reliving those insane ten minutes in the Nebula, and that one minute in my cabin afterwards almost every day for the last two years gave me all the energy I needed to close the distance between her and I.

It helped that I was sure Kara wasn't actually trying to escape me -- us. Why would she pause her steps every now and then, making sure I didn't completely lose her -- them -- in the myriad twists and turns of this ship. The damned thing's layout was even more labyrinthine than trying to walk through _Galactica _blindfolded.

Oh, there was no question whatsoever she would make me pay for my claim to the Admiral and President, and would be lying if I claimed the prospect didn't scare me. A whole frakking lot, actually. At least she wasn't just abandoning me -- us -- that had to mean something.

At least that's what I kept telling myself, hustling to keep up with her and trying not to become paralyzed at the reality that I'd have denied possible just ten hours – and gods along knew how many orgasms – ago.

* * *

The medical bay on _Olympus _was far more inviting than Cottle's domain back on _Galactica_. Softer lighting, softer-looking beds, partitioning that actually afforded privacy without looking sterile; all gave the place a gentler and thus more pleasant atmosphere. I could only hope this didn't mean their CMO was less competent or experienced than the Doc. I really, really didn't want to think I was delivering my girls – _any_ of them, regardless of age – into the hands of some idiot quack who didn't know the difference between a scalpel and a pair of pliers.

By the time I arrived there, they were all in an exam bay. Lieutenant-Commander Thomas Creo was moving a stethoscope carefully under Paya's shirt and exchanging words I couldn't understand with Kara. Aurora was being fussed over by one of the nurses, the pair of them giggling like fools. Kara was herself pressed against a wall to the side, keeping a clear LOS on everyone.

Creo carried himself with the sort of casual confidence I'd come to associate with Doc Cottle, despite looking at least two deca younger than the Doc and staring at the world through thick-rimmed half-moon glasses. I tried not to let this make me prejudge the man or his abilities, but I was immediately set on edge anyway. It was probably because I couldn't follow the exchange between the doctor and Kara. The only upside was that it didn't appear to be anything 'hot' being discussed; Kara's answers being short and evidently to the point.

My arrival didn't have an immediate impact on this little dynamic, and for a moment I didn't think I'd even been noticed, as no-one turned to address or even acknowledge us. Even nosily clearing my throat didn't cause so much as a pass or draw a glance from anyone. Another nurse _did_ appear at my elbow suddenly and gathered Kacey to her. It didn't occur to me immediately to object to this, as she settled my elder daughter on the exam bed beside Paya's and proceeded to murmur to her gently.

There was another short exchange between Creo and Kara, which led to the latter addressing me shortly. "What's wrong with Paya's lungs?" she asked; tone one of raw irritation as if this were vital information that had been deliberately denied her until then.

"Birth defect," I automatically supplied. When Kara frowned and met my eyes, clearly demanding more detail, and all I could offer was a helpless shrug and add "Cottle didn't think it was serious." Her lip curled in undisguised contempt and she spoke again to Creo, pointedly keeping her _eyes off_ me_. _

I realized to my shame I didn't know much more than -- _that_. The adoption had been finalized barely six monen ago, and between my work in the Quorum and racing all about the fleet for Roslin -- I just hadn't had time -- hadn't made the time for --

I could see for the first time how -- shallow -- those excuses were. Dear gods, what had I done to my children? _My frakking children_ --

There was nothing I could do save stand there, watching strangers care for my children and look like the hopeless, frakking, godsbedamned fool I was. Everyone continued to ignore me.

Through it all, I eyed the weapon at Kara's hip and wondered how many rounds she'd pump into me at the earliest opportunity. She'd naturally aim for non-vital areas, so the girls wouldn't be without a father -- I hoped they wouldn't be without one -- not that I was much of one to begin with --

Maybe removing me from the board would prove a positive thing after all.

* * *

"Lee? Lee!" Kara's voice cut through my distraction like a knife.

"Eh? What?"

"Stitches here," she gave a short wave at Commander Creo, who had moved on to prodding Kacey that seemed more like tickling than careful examination.

"Stitches?" I queried, again running on automatic.

"Yeah. Funny story behind that one. Anyway --"

"He's good, right? I mean, he's in charge here. Right?" I really didn't want to suffer through another slicing look or condemning word, at least not yet, so distraction was the order of the moment. Besides which, I really wanted some hard intel on these people she'd been living with, likely training them, since leaving us -- leaving _me -- _so very far behind.

It was galling to have to admit Leoben was right about her getting ahead of us all on the path to here, to this moment. If we ever met again, I really wasn't looking forward to hearing him say "I told you so".

"Yes, Lee," Kara stated with such exaggerated patience that it was an obvious farce. "Stitches -- Commander Creo that is -- is saying she -- Paya's got an obvious problem with her lungs. He _thinks_its asthma, and so it's controllable. He wants Cottle to send over her medical records ASAP." She grimaced at something sour-tasting. "He also wants your permission to do some X-rays and further tests."

My permission was of course merely _pro forma _at that point; since Kara had already picked her up and followed Creo's lead out of the exam bay. I was torn between following and remaining to keep an eye on my -- _our_ two remaining children. I opted for the latter choice, if only so I wouldn't get my head bitten off again or have my balls sliced out and stuffed down my throat. Kara's mood had clearly communicated she was contemplating both prospects.

I found myself drifting to gaze down at Aurora, the nurse attending her (which amounted to little more than keeping a hand on her tummy and keeping her from rolling off) scooting aside to allow this. "Hi," I said quietly, finding it hard to breathe again. The toddler, body already clearly lengthening and losing baby fat, gazed at me with a toothless smile that all but dismembered me. "I'm --" I stopped, throat closing at the realization I had no clue what I was to this child -- Kara's child -- _our_child, once I got the necessary paperwork from Lampkin and Hodges.

Would Kara accept my claiming her, at least legally? She'd already all but branded Kacey and Paya as her own, even after my desperate and ill-advised stake over the wireless --

"Daddy?" Kacey's trembling voice shot through me, straight to the marrow. I spun and was at her side in but two strides. "You forget again?" she asked and it took an unconscionably long second for me to unravel her question.

"No, Kacey," I promised as sincerely as I could. "I didn't forget about you."

It still stung, how easily I'd forgotten her birthday, even more than the week-long silence I'd endured from both the President and the Admiral as a result. They'd barely consented to allowing me to eat with my girls, never mind spend real time with them. I'd immediately seen the test for what it was and amended my ways, for a time at least. But lately --

Clearly, I was still fighting old, bad habits, ones I'd probably never be fully rid of. Kara killing me would be an act of mercy in that case. This merely meant she'd make damned sure I _didn't _pass any day soon; she wasn't that merciful, and would be even less inclined if Paya's condition proved worse than first appeared.

I sighed and knelt down so we were at the same level. "Paya's just going for some tests to make sure she isn't hurt inside."

"And Kara?"

"She's going to make sure the doctor knows what he's doing."

"Kara come back?"

"Yes," I said with all the certainty of gravity. "She'll come back."

"Didn't come back before."

"She --" I couldn't argue that one, and Kacey was far too young to comprehend the convoluted and bizarre explanation I suspected was the truth. "She'll be back."

"Scary Kara?"

"Hmm?"

"Is Kara going to be scary 'gain?"

That brought me up short and I quickly picked my daughter up. She was no lightweight and I really needed to start working out more. "What do you mean 'scary', Kacey?"

"She -- promise not mad?"

"Promise," I stated seriously, trying hard not to frown and likely failing. The absolute last thing was to spook her worse, but it seemed I didn't do any better there than I had just being a generally decent parent. "Kacey?" I prompted as gently as possible.

My daughter threw a look this way and that, as if confirming there was no one near, then leaned in and whispered, "Kara -- visited -- when Momma went 'sleep."

It took several beats to process this little revelation. Julia Brynn had died eight monens ago, the unfortunate victim of a coolant leak on the _Annan_, which had also claimed ten others. The only mercy had been that she'd been comatose as her lungs failed. However, Kacey had been the one to find her amid the wreckage, and had been sitting there when the rescue crews arrived, patiently and innocently waiting for her already-dead mother to wake up. No surprise she now had such a deathly fear of sleep, resisting even a simple nap most days.

I'd been serving point for the President and Quorum in recovery operations, happening upon her by chance and recognizing her from the infrequent visits with Kara over the previous years. Perhaps I'd been simply so desperate for some touchstone with happier days that I took to spending my free time with her. Adoption seemed the next logical step, or so I thought at the time. My schedule didn't lighten much afterwards, and so she and her sister spent two-thirds of their days with the President or the Admiral. Exactly how they managed her constant energy when they watched her, I really had no idea. I dearly wished I could develop that skill.

But this whispered confession left me wondering how much chance really played with our finding each other. My own visits from -- _whatever_ had been wearing Kara's form two years earlier hadn't left a sense of danger. Longing certainly, a trace of affection maybe, but certainly no threat or worry from -- it.

"Kacey?"

"Hmm?"

"Did -- Kara -- say anything to you?"

"She said I was going to live with you. An' that' I hadda – hadda --"

Kacey was starting to shake now, so I shushed her as best I could. "S'okay, Kace. You're safe. You're safe."

"I know," she nodded. "Kara scary."

"Why was Kara scary?" I asked quietly. "Did she look scary?"

"Nuh-huh." She swallowed and added, "Pretty."

"Kara looked pretty?"

"Uh-huh. Real bright. _Real_ pretty."

"Do you think you were dreaming?"

"Nuh-huh. Wasn't sleepin'. Don' like to sleep."

"I know, I know. S'okay." I decided not press any further. I gave her another squeeze and a kiss on her chubby cheek. "Don't worry, okay. We're all safe here."

"Okay, Daddy."

"I need to check on Aurora, "Okay?"

"Okay."

"Sit there for a minute, okay?" Kacey gave another nod and watched carefully as I set her down on the exam bed, then moved back over to where Aurora was lying quietly. She perked up at my approach, the nurse again moving aside to allow me near, even giving me a small smile as I leaned down.

"Hi again --"

Kara chose that moment to return, notably without Paya. "Lee? C'mere." She practically pulled me out of exam bay by the arm. "She's okay," I was informed urgently. "But she needs to be monitored better than before --"

"But --"

"She's fine. Don't touch me." I took this last directive to heart, putting both hands in my pockets.

"You're angry --" I ventured.

"Angry? Oh, I'm so frakking _beyond _just angry." She took a step close enough, close enough that her exhales tickled my chin. "Exactly where do you get off -- what am I here? Chattel? Sex slave?"

I couldn't help but grin at that one. "_That_ might work."

"Frak you. Don't frakking touch me, Adama." I made a very clear move of putting distance between us, making sure I kept my hands in sight. "I mean it."

"I know you do, Kara." I thought for several seconds. "I'll need a line to communicate with _Galactica _to get the girls' records over here. I suspect Cottle will bring them himself."

"Ah, joy of my life."

"Where's Paya, Kara?" I asked, suddenly irritated.

"Over there. Don't worry; I've kept her in sight." I looked toward the corner where a nurse wearing a lead-plate gown was helping Paya position herself, as a radiologist snapped a series of buttons on a panel behind a clear screen. The machine hummed, then issued a nervous-sounding 'pop', which in turn prompted Paya to grace us with one of her rare laughs.

"Kara?"

"Hmm?"

"Are you going to keep staying mad at me?"

"After what you've just pulled? I'm holding onto this until we _both_ die.

"I --"

She gestured toward Paya, saying, "My name goes down on the adoption papers for her and Kacey, got it?"

Right then didn't sound an opportune time to tell her I was ready to make those arrangements anyway. She might interpret it as another slight on her person or parenting skills (as if I were any judge of either aspect). Instead, I latched on to more practical considerations, asking, "Will I be allowed to see Aurora?"

"Well," Kara puffed. "Since you've _claimed_ me, under the First Covenant, she's basically your _pet_, to do with as you frakking please."

The whole 'don't touch' issue was momentarily rendered null and void as my hand swung up and fingers glanced across her jaw. Surprise alone had kept me from putting too much power behind this action. Kara looked up at me in utter surprise, her shock probably more because I'd actually struck full on than by the prospect of even more. Hopefully the girls were each sufficiently distracted that they hadn't caught it.

"I can't believe you just said that to me," I growled.

"I can't believe you'd resort to invoking _slavery_ just to sink hooks into me."

I was severely tempted to slap the taste out of her mouth again for just implying that's what I'd done, sufficiently so that I balled my fists and rested them on my hips. Leave it to Kara to call a shovel a spade. But then again she'd always tended to take the extremes on stuff like this, even as far back as First Form classes. Zak, wherever he was, was probably laughing his ass off at all this.

"By the way," Kara continued. "That was your one free poke, _Mister_ Delegate. You ever touch me or my girls without permission and I swear I'll cut you down where you stand."

I actually chuckled at her deftly turning my own words on me. "_Your_ girls?" It was an ugly sound, but it was either that or I start crying.

"Yeah," she dipped her head. "_Mine_, 'because it's pretty obvious you're an even worse parent than --"

_Say it_ my badly injured heart challenged.

_Don't say it_ my barely-functioning brain cautioned.

Kara for once was the sensible one and _didn't_ say it, despite having every right to do so. Rights to it or not, I doubt I could kept still or silent if she'd gone with the first option. The fact blood would have been spilt in the medical bay was an irony I didn't really want to ponder too deeply.

Perhaps Kara felt the same way. Her ears coloring slightly suggested she wasn't wholly deaf to the implications of the words. If anything, she looked -- scared at the unspoken words between us. This perversely made me want to drag her back into the nearest convenient storage closet and loose myself in her for another nine hours.

I barely blinked and her Starbuck mask was back in place, all vulnerability covered over. "I'm going to take _our_ girls back to _my_ cabin," she declared in that trademark tone of command that so terrified the nuggets of old. "_You _can go frak yourself for awhile, because I don't want to see, hear, or _smell_ you for a good _long_ while."

Another chuckle hit me, one not quite as ugly as before, but still wasn't a happy sound either. "Fine," I nodded to her, and then took a step that reduced the distance between us to barely a finger length. I didn't touch her, but I neither did I leave any doubt that our impending separation was anything but temporary.

"I'll be by in three hours. Try not to lose your mind, Colonel." I looked back toward the exam area and raised my voice "Kacey? You and Paya will be staying with Kara for a bit, okay? I'll see you shortly."

"Okay, Daddy."

"Mind Kara. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Love you." I turned back to Kara and shot my last round. "_All _of you."

Her answering scowl was all the confirmation I needed that I hit the target. I marched off and out of range of her return fire. My only hope was that she'd be in no condition to launch anything more than an angry look my way in three hours. A fool's hope perhaps, but that's all I had to go on at this point.

Well, that, plus the wish for another six decas with her. I had to wonder if the gods would grant me that, and what they'd demand in exchange.

_TBC_...


	44. Chapter 44

**Part 44**

_**(Caprica)**_

**Colonial Battlestar **_**Galactica  
**_**Tigh family private quarters**

**+29:01:56**

Alexandru finished nursing and offered me no complaint as I settled him back on the bed. Cribs were in short supply, even for senior officers, and so Saul and I had improvised a low barrier for his rack to keep our son from rolling himself off the mattress and onto the floor. It was a frequent worry of mine we were coddling him too much, treating him too delicately, but what did I know of infants? Hera had refused so much of the care I and my sisters had offered her, and none of the Farms had ever borne fruit.

I hadn't objected to Saul's 'request' I relocate to _Galactica _a monen ago. Then again, how could I have when we were being escorted to the flight deck by a brace of Marines – who were helpfully carrying our already-packed bags – and Saul himself had all but barricaded himself in the CIC?

The Admiral had met us upon landing and escorted us directly to Saul's old cabin. He'd even made a point of visiting his godson every other day, routinely asking abut Alex and making sure we didn't need for much. I'd made a point of not abusing this hospitality, and didn't offer the smallest complaint or objection to the variety of duties he saw fit to assign me. I fetched reports, repaired consoles, assisted in Dogsville, even cleaned waste pipes on occasion -- at least on the rare days the President didn't want to speak with me about any old thing.

It was strange; I was instrumental in the destruction of human civilization as we knew it. Yet the appointed leader of what was left of humanity, as we had known it anyway, shared confidences with me that by any rational measure I had no right to and should never have heard. She asked after Alex as often as the Admiral, frequently requested I bring him along with me and asked if she could hold him.

On this point I was significantly less agreeable. Alexandru was precious beyond words. Did I dare risk him with someone who had tea with her long-dead press aide? Roslin hadn't taken offense at my refusal thus far. If anything, she usually appeared _relieved_ at my caution and didn't push the issue.

My days were spent either discussing our divergent philosophies, re-examining the failures and errors our two peoples had suffered through, gossiping, even laughing on occasion. In those moments, I nearly forgot how close to the edge of the abyss we all were.

Now that our exodus was nearing its end, I felt even less secure, _less_at peace than when I first defected with Athena. What would become of Alexandru and me in this new world? Where would we fit, given that Saul had managed to lose himself somewhere aboard _Nemesis_and I could never escape the suspicion that Roslin and Adama were simply setting me up for a trip out the airlock. If I had trustworthy assurances of Alex's safety, I'd willing walk out one, but beyond Saul and perhaps Athena, I dared not trust anyone.

Therefore, I lingered here, constantly in fear of my child's life and jumping every time someone knocked on the cabin door --

Which was exactly what happened at that moment. I threw a quick look to make sure Alex was still asleep – the child's sleeping patterns were as unpredictable as his father's moods – relieved to see him only stir a bit but otherwise stay quiet. Taking a fortifying breath, I moved to crack open the hatch, expecting bad news in the form of Marine guards coming to fetch me away.

Laura Roslin stood there, looking as nervous I felt. She didn't move or say anything, instead waited patiently for me to open the hatch more fully. It took me a few extra beats to clue into this, ultimately opening the door wide and asking, "Madam President?"

Roslin nodded. "Hello. May I, um, come in?"

I glanced around her, noting there were only a couple of guards in evidence. This was a bit of surprise as the Admiral had been expansive in the measures he'd taken with her security. He'd rarely allowed the President out of his cabin without himself and a complement of guards in full combat kit present. For her to be standing there with minimal security could have meant several things, not the least of which was I'd been misreading the woman all this time.

Trust had to start somewhere, I suppose, and it behooved me to make the first move. I gave her a short nod of agreement and stepped aside to allow her past the threshold. She nodded to the guards, a silent order for them to remain outside, then entered my home. I made a point not to shut the hatch completely, just to reassure the unsmiling men with guns on the other side.

Laura gravitated immediately to gaze at Alex, who didn't so much as stir under her gaze. "He's beautiful," she breathed quietly, so much so I had to strain a bit to hear it.

"He is," I agreed after a moment. Laura took a final look at the toddler, then turned to face me directly.

"I need you insight on – something," she said, keeping her voice low.

"Of course. Why don't we sit down?" I offered a chair by the little-used desk, then pulled one from the nearby wall for myself. "I'd offer you something to drink but -- well, Saul's been dry for awhile now --"

"That's alright," Laura nodded, settling herself in the chair and waiting until I had done likewise. "I'm having trouble keeping anything down except Elosha's tea -- sorry. I know how that sounds." She gave a small laugh. "I know everyone thinks I'm going mad, seeing Billy and Elosha every day --"

"I --" The first answer that came to mind was stopped quickly when I saw _Gaius _standing near the door, looking as well groomed and confident as that last morning along the Riverwalk in Caprica City. It had been over a year since he'd last appeared to me and I'd forgotten how unnerving his presence was, a secret visitor I had never revealed to anyone. It was all I could do not to stare at him.

Thankfully, the phantom neither said anything nor moved beyond an upraised eyebrow. I took this as a well-intentioned warning and thought up a completely different response to the President's words.

"I'm not one to judge, Laura." This came out a little more forcefully than I'd intended, leading me to wince in anticipation of something equally-sharp coming from the President. However, no such retaliation came; apparently, Laura was too distracted by her own thoughts to have noticed.

A quick look at the door confirmed Gaius was no longer in evidence. Despite not having appeared since leading me to the traumatized Boomer's hiding place aboard _Nemesis_, I made no assumptions that he – whatever he was – was wholly gone. Apollo's wild claims of seeing Starbuck, I suspected more than once, only reinforced this certainty.

Did Gaius's sudden reappearance herald something of significance? Was Laura in some imminent danger? Was Alexandru? I shook my head clear of such fast-spiraling thoughts and refocused on the older woman sitting before me. "Laura?" I ventured, even more worried for her now.

"I'm sorry," she apologized again. "My head's been all over the map since -- well --"

"Because of Starbuck?" It was a massive chance I took in uttering the name. There was every chance the Admiral hadn't told her of Thrace's presence aboard the _Olympus_. Going by how she sighed, it wasn't really a surprise. "What can I do?"

"I'm going aboard the _Olympus _in two hours time. My only contact with the Terrans has been Secretary Richards and Commodore Avery-Hunter. You've seen more of them." She looked at me directly and leaned forward. "What can I expect?"

It wasn't an unexpected query, or at least shouldn't have been. I nevertheless had to buy time to get my thoughts together. "Expect from them -- in general, or from anyone specifically?"

"Who else is there?"

"Um," I hummed. "They have an Admiral aboard, one of their senior-most officers, name of Theodore Rice."

"Okay, we'll start there. What's he like?"

* * *

My model was designed, purpose-built for seduction and intelligence gathering. We specialize in learning what is hidden, whether through subtle observation or more involved methods.

Perhaps it had been too long since I'd needed to engage in such activity, at least consciously, for the myriad details that Laura teased out of me were both voluminous -- and ones I had been completely unaware I knew.

Admiral Rice, for example, was a man who was fighting some manner of addiction. I had noticed how frequently he would refill his mug with their too-rich coffee, yet would eat so little in comparison, sucking down that powerful brew was if it were his mother's milk. His movements were so controlled yet his reflexes were jerky and sharp, telling me he constantly fought some inner turmoil that was forever bubbling near the surface. That he kept Starbuck in clear sight at all times suggested to me she was somehow involved there. It was a different energy than what crackled between Secretary Richards and Starbuck, one less fierce but no less strong.

Yet for all that, he was clearly a competent man, at ease with his position and his authority, yet careful not to overstep himself. I imagined he was what William Adama would have been had the worlds not ended so abruptly. He consistently deferred to civilian authority, which in itself told me a good bit about the structure and stability of the organization he served.

Then there was Lieutenant Commander Callisto. Despite her junior-sounding rank and apparent youth, she carried herself with the firm discipline that reminded me of temple matrons. Her equally smooth speech was so rarely tinged with emotion that I concluded she was of a military family; but hers was one where the virtues of service were emphasized, and the child's decisions were made not in rebellion, as Lee Adama's had been, but to honor those virtues.

More interesting to me was that she was knowledgeable, considerably more so than she let on, but held her tongue unless asked a question directly. This was demonstrated by the many subtle and well-hidden flinches at the more technical aspects our briefing had touched upon. There were easily a dozen points where she had looked ready to correct her superiors, yet she'd remained silent. Her respect for the chain of command was clearly strong; I suspected she would break it with sufficient cause, but what constituted such a cause I could only guess.

More generally, the Terrans were clearly superior engineers, capable of adapting and building upon pre-existing materials. The _Olympus _alone was a demonstration of that, given the numerous subtle differences between the design and layout between the bodies of the Terran battlestar compared to the flight pods. Callisto's statement the that the flight pods themselves had once been vessels for the seas and not space, ridiculous on its face, now struck as credible and even outright genius.

That they had organized and built all this, spread themselves out beyond their own planet so quickly after nearly being wiped out by that pandemic they skirted speaking of, made my own people's development seem like we had been sleepwalking all this time. We had been careful not to press too hard for too many details during our own time aboard their ship. We were fearful of giving offense or bringing up questions we weren't equipped to answer, that we had only the barest knowledge of what other creations the Terrans had flying about.

I had no doubt they would prove -- surprising.

* * *

I was careful to outline these insights without resorting to precise descriptions. It was easy to lose oneself trying to visualize such descriptions, which would have only hindered her preparations. D'Iblis was in the details and I had no desire to burden Laura more than she already was.

Laura had kept quiet through it all, speaking only to prompt my mind to offer up what it held without my knowing it. She was never demanding or impatient as I worked my way through all these realizations; it was almost frightening, this calm and patience she displayed.

At length I'd finished, feeling wrung out as a washcloth. As Laura stood to leave, a question came to mind, one I should have demanded an answer to from the start. "Laura?"

The President paused and turned. "Yes?"

"What about -- what will happen to --" I was stumped for several seconds, uncertain if I was asking on behalf of Alexandru, or myself.

Worn and ready to collapse as she might have been, President Roslin had lost none of her perceptive nature. "You and Alex will join us all on Earth. We owe you too much --" She shook her head quickly. "Besides, do you think Bill would let me leave you two behind? He'd never forgive me."

"Thank you," I breathed, wanting to believe her so desperately.

Laura smiled and reached over to squeeze my shoulder. "Don't worry so much. Alex needs a healthy mother."

"Very true," I nodded again, giving her a smile of my own. "Let me know if you want me along."

"No, no. You and Alex are staying aboard _Galactica _until Commander Tigh resurfaces."

Bad enough Saul hadn't alerted us immediately of what he'd found here, but to have just vanished like this before we'd jumped into this system, and _stayed_ vanished? "There's still no sign of him?"

"Unfortunately, no." Laura frowned. "Bill is starting to get worried about him."

"He's not the only one."

"I'm sure. Get some rest, Caprica. The Admiral promised he'd looking in on you in a little bit."

"Thank you. Safe journey, Madam President."

Laura gave a final nod and left the cabin. I made sure the hatch locked behind her, then returned to my chair, moving it closer to the bunk where my son slumbered so peacefully, so innocently. Gazing on him, I again sought to convince myself of the President's assurances for our future.

I believed her, even as I entertained a sliver of doubt about it all. How these two things could reside in my mind was a mystery, one I would ponder for the remainder of my life.

_TBC..._

**

* * *

**

**De author seez: **_What? You guys didn't think I'd forgotten about this one, did you? Heck, naw! There's still lots of action to come...maybe. If the characters consent to talk to me again. Someday. Perhaps. Hopefully. _

_Hope you enjoyed the threefer (short as they were). Please feedback the author! _


	45. Chapter 45

**Part 45**

_**(Starbuck)**_

**Terran Battlestar **_**Olympus  
**_**Quarters of Colonel Kara Thrace**

**+29:55:33**

If I were to count the ways Lee and I had managed to utterly frak up our reunion, I could probably reach double digits pretty fast. The only smart thing Lee had done was _not _try to kiss me good-bye. Not that I'd been much better there; summarily claiming Kacey and Paya in public as if I had ranked up there with -- well, it definitely set a completely new standard for _Idiot Moves_.

The worst part wasn't that Lee was sure to go along with it. Nope. What stung most was how I couldn't make the same legal claim he could -- and should -- and had.

"Familiar Rights." And under the First Covenant, no less? He might as well have tattooed "Property of Lee Adama" across my ass. And he was completely justified in doing it, because we had -- done --

I'd made a point of _not_ thinking about it for so long, I sometimes wondered if it had even happened. He and I had never even spoken about it. Zak probably knew about it, but only because he'd been looking in on us at the time from Elysium. I really wouldn't have been surprised, as he'd always had a perv streak to him, hidden from the world, but which came out at the oddest moments.

Well, the deed was done. _Long_ done. We'd both pulled away after it happened, fought and frakked with each other without any good sense, even went and married other people out of fear (me) and spite (him). Hadn't we suffered for our mutual idiocy?

All that was left now was to reconcile myself to being Lee's -- something. 'Sex slave' actually had a nice ring to it being such a simple, uncomplicated concept that involved little more than --

I realized I had to _stop _that line of thought, if only because Paya was starting to give her an odd look. "Okay, honey?" I asked her, hoping to distract her from worrying questions, ones that she really shouldn't be asking until she was at least fifty.

"Uh-huh," she nodded sagely. "Funny joke?"

"Um, not exactly."

"Okay." Paya was apparently satisfied with this explanation, going back to her drawing. Aurora was crawling near the sofa, mouth set in a determined line and eye on the stuffed bear sitting up there. Kacey had apparently run herself down and was asleep in my rack.

One thing I'd learned over the last year was children were nothing if not unpredictable. Therefore, I made a point of keeping half an eye on the bedroom door; Kacey was sure to wake up any time now, gods alone knew in what sort of mood, and was sure to need some reassurance I wasn't going to vanish on her. Like I was even _capable_ of running at this point; Aurora alone was very effective anchor, but throw two more little girls into the mix and I'd _never _get beyond the troposphere again.

How difficult would it be for the gearheads at Nellis to build mini-flight suits for each of the three of them? They had always loved a challenge, but then how receptive would Lee be?

I grinned, knowing he'd freak, throw a very quiet fit, and then insist on accompanying us into the sky.

That was, provided we could get past this latest communication malfunction between us. Lee would be perfectly within his rights, his claim to Covenant aside, to pound my head into the bulkhead after I'd nearly declared him a failure as a parent. His slapping me was, well, pretty mild a reaction given the circumstances. Unexpected, too. In the past, it had taken outright betrayal to prompt that kind of _physical_ response from him. Sure, it had taken over a year for him to vent properly for my running off on New Caprica, but still --

I had to admit, Lee becoming a parent had been a bit of a _shock_ -- rather on the order of having an explosive round fired into one's skull at close quarters, which in comparison would have caused me considerably _less_ distress than I was presently experiencing.

Who the frak was I to judge his parenting skills anyway? _I_ had a full-time job, live-in help and a well-stocked fridge. I could only imagine how desperate the fleet's situation had been in the last two years, especially if they were _still _eating that frakking algae. How much more pressure had Lee been under, being a Quorum delegate _and_ a single father, topping it all with the fleet thinking he was totally nuts for seeing _me_ in that nebula?

In complete honesty, hustling my -- our -- girls out of MedBay and practically barricading the four of us into my cabin was all about me keeping my composure. Yeah, me, the Mighty and Unkillable Starbuck was running for the hills because she was scared out of her stupid skull of a glare from Lee Adama. I'd needed to get distance from Lee - and with him the cruel slight I'd so arrogantly thrown at him – because otherwise he'd come to his senses at any second and take the girls away, Aurora included. If that happened, I would break down right there and then, so completely they'd never find all the pieces.

The fact this act of cowardice allowed the girls to spend time together and get used to each other, and me for that matter, was an unintended if very happy benefit. I was all smiles with Paya, keeping a steady drone of "Ohs" and "That's good" (having little to no idea what I was actually encouraging) because otherwise I was going to start crying or blubbering or something equally frakked that would only scare her and Aurora.

Actually, my toddler didn't worry me quite so much; she was a sensitive little thing, but had also demonstrated what I thought was a deeper perception of the world than any child should have. She would always pierce me with a clear-eyed stare whenever I'd get maudlin or foolish, as if she were channeling Laura Roslin's oft-repeated order _Clear your head, Colonel!_ I sometimes wondered if those would in fact be her first words; it wouldn't have been surprising given her -- _particular_ -- mix of genes.

Therefore, with Aurora spoken for, I focused on keeping Paya calm and occupied for the length of the three hours cooling period Lee had summarily imposed on us. I guess I should get used to him setting the schedule for us from here on. Hopefully it would include equal time for all three of the girls, maybe even some time in the cockpit for me.

That's when it struck me that this would all have to be explained to Ben and Rice and gods knew how many others. _That_ promised to be interesting because it would also involve going into the ugly and convoluted history of my people. Gods alone knew how they would take _that_.

Would Lee's claim survive their signing on to the UN Charter? Okay, calling it slavery had been a bit much, and yes, Familiar Rights hearkened back to the barely-civilized first era of colonization. It was an archaic holdover at best from a time better forgotten, the First Covenant itself barely acknowledged in any legal sense I knew of. Then again, I had been out of circulation for two years; for all I knew the whole fleet had reverted to tribalism.

Although looking at Paya and Kacey, that didn't seem too likely. And Lee's neglect (for lack of a better word) and Paya's asthma aside, neither girl appeared to be suffering physically. Mentally and emotionally was whole different issue, one I knew would have to be broached very carefully; I had _zero _ideas about how I would do this, unfortunately. Maybe Shan could help me there -- provided she ever spoke to me again or didn't demand an immediate transfer, that is.

* * *

Paya didn't prove nearly the handful I'd feared, being more than content to try her hand at drawing with crayons; a small mercy given Kacey had apparently had gotten a bit wild since I'd last watched her. Aurora was as self-contained as ever and set about exploring the nooks and crannies of the front room again, but clearly avoiding intruding on her sibling's work. I could only hope this was some indication of the dynamics that would be in play between these children once we got to Earth.

However, as time wore on, I started to wonder about Paya's quiet manner. I was all for good manners and all, especially given Aurora was still teething, but for some reason it was getting a little unsettling how Paya was so singularly focused on the shapes she was creating. Was this the same child who was laughing it up so wildly in MedBay barely a quarter of an hour ago?

I maneuvered around so I could look over her shoulder while keeping Aurora in sight as well. My expectation was a collection of barely definable geometric shapes and a mish-mash of colors that had little rhyme or reason. What I saw was -- something else.

It was a panorama of space, with several ships of the fleet set against it. _Galactica_ dominated the picture, a careful rendering of it too, drawn almost to scale with _Colonial One_ and an unnamed freighter nearby. She'd been supremely careful with the colors as well, although I couldn't recall ever seeing a magenta-colored star. It was all a little rough at the edges but would make great blackmail material when she hit her rebellious stage.

"That's nice," I commented sincerely. Paya dipped her head as she ran a dark blue crayon over the paper, doing her best to approximate the dark of space. "You like drawing?"

"Hmm," was Paya's only response.

"I paint."

"Nice."

I really hoped she came by her reticence honestly and not because of Lee's parental shortcoming**s**. I had little enough confidence in my own abilities, so having to pick up the slack from him wasn't a particularly attractive option. Single parenthood was even less so and _not _something I wanted to consider having to go for; Lee had me aching in all the right places, both internally and externally, and the thought of not having him at hand didn't bear thinking about.

The fact I was, legally speaking, little more than his personal bed-warmer and baby-oven -- well, there were worse things to be, right?

Aurora issued a happy giggle of triumph as she managed to pull the stuffed bear off the sofa, holding herself upright with one hand and grasping her target with the other, then tumbling back onto her backside. This caused only a momentary pass from Paya, who immediately went back to her coloring. I didn't pick up any annoyance from the dark-haired artist, but then I'd only been around her for barely an hour so this could be totally atypical. Something else I'd have to watch for.

My toddler's gurgled joy apparently woke up Kacey, as she rolled out of my rack and stumbled out to join us. Rubbing her eyes, she gave us a singular scowl and stuck out her lower lip. "Hiya," I called to her softly, shifting about so was sitting cross-legged on the floor and opening my arms to her. Kacey gave me another glare, and then walked over to plunk herself into my lap.

"You went away," she complained. I could tell she wasn't going to be forgiving me for that one any day soon. Maybe by the time she had _her_ first child -- which _wasn't_ happening until her father and I were old and gray and in the grave --

"Yeah," I could only agree. "I'm sorry, Kacey. I didn't want to."

"Mommy was sad," she sighed, laying her head on my shoulder. "Grandpa was sad, too."

"Were you sad, Kace?"

Kacey gave a small shake of her head, her thick hair tickling my chin and nose. "Mad."

"Mad at me?"

"Nuh-huh."

"I'm sorry," I repeated.

"You were scary," she added after a pause, voice lowered below a whisper.

This brought me up short. "I was? When?"

"After you left." Her chest heaved once. "After Mommy went to sleep."

"Um," I hummed, having no clue what to make of this claim, tightening my arms around her. Something cold wrapped itself around my spine.

"I -- Kace?"

"Yeah?"

"You saw me, _after_ you Mommy went away?"

"Yeah." She raised her head and gave me a critical once-over. "You were real bright."

"I was?"

"Yeah. You were bright and pretty -- and scary."

I swallowed something hard that lodged in my throat and croaked out, "How -- how was I -- scary?" Kacey gave me another look, one more confused than before. I tried a different track. "Did I say or -- or do something --?"

Kacey gave a small shake of her head, eyebrows scrunching as she did. "You said don' be afraid, and that Lee was coming to get me."

"_I_ said that?"

"Yeah." She shifted and sat herself up, now staring at my dress blues. "Different clothes."

"I was wearing different clothes?"

Kacey nodded. "Kinda -- gold. Shiny." She looked me up and down, and then took a handful of my hair.

I took a guess and asked, "Was my hair different?" Kacey nodded, studying head carefully. "Different color?" Kacey shook her head. "Longer? Shorter?"

"Short. Lot shorter."

"Was -- did I do anything else?"

Kacey shook her head again, biting her lip nervously. Lee and I were definitely going to be discussing this bit of non-disclosure. Figuring I'd gotten as much intel as I could out of her, for the moment at least, it was time for me to switch to my Mom hat. "Well, you're here with me now, okay? You and Paya will be staying here on _Olympus_ for the time being."

"An' Lee?"

I took note of how she referred to her guardian. It was looking more and more as if I would be pulling triple parent duty. "He'll be staying here as well," I told her. "Do you want that?" Kacey pondered that for several beats before giving a small but decisive nod. I really didn't want to ask the next question, but it was eating at me and needed some answer so I could gauge the terrain ahead of us. It threw a glance to where Aurora was sitting, trying her best to approximate my own stance, watching the three of us carefully as she gummed her bear's ear. I could almost hear Roslin's voice channelled through her saying _Don't frak this up, Colonel!_

Giving myself a firm shake, I called out "Paya? Please come here for second, okay?" Paya looked up, then set her crayons aside and moved to stand before me. Kacey stood beside her without prompting, leaving me to wonder what their daily routine was. "Girls? Has Lee been -- good -- to you two?"

"Yes," the answered in unison, eyes fixed on the bulkhead behind me, as if they were cadets on their first review.

I felt like screaming, suddenly wishing I'd hadn't been so damned sensible back in MedBay and just called Lee out on his failure in this. I might not be a poster child for motherhood, but even I wasn't dense or insensitive enough to turn my child into the disciplined statues standing before me.

However, I tamped down on that, saving my rage for the appropriate target.

Instead, I reached out and took their hands, one each, into my own. This had the desired result of pulling their eyes to mine. "Listen to me, okay? Are you two hearing me?" They nodded, Kacey's was jerky and Paya's shallow, for which I was grateful as it meant they were back to being their own selves. "Okay. We'll be spending a lot of time together now. I want you two to promise me you'll come to me if you ever feel scared or upset or -- or anything. Promise me?"

Kacey dipped her head, but Paya paused and studied me carefully. Of course, she would think about, I cursed myself. She didn't know me at all, save for whatever stories Lee might have told her. If they were even a fraction as colorful as the ones I whispered about Lee to Aurora at night, I'd count myself lucky if she consented to be in the same room with me from here on.

Ultimately, Paya decided in the affirmative. It was another short, sharp dip of her chin, her eyes not leaving me. I could read the doubt there, but I'd take what little victories I could manage these days.

Hopefully, I'd manage things as well with Lee. At least I had a couple of hours to come up with a plan on that one.

_TBC..._

**

* * *

**

**De author rants: **_Hope everyone's T-Day went okay and all. I realize the last several chapters have been character studies; these will prove necessary for the story to proceed. Besides, who doesn't like watching the pilots hammer each other's button through the console? See ya next week!_


	46. Chapter 46

_Hey, all. Miss me?_

**

* * *

Part 46**

_**(Roslin)**_

**Colonial Raptor 271  
En route to Terran Battlestar **_**Olympus**_

**+31:45:50**

It had taken several more hours than I'd expected to get things ready. Among other things, Lee's invoking an obscure measure from the First Covenant had left Bill and me literally speechless. We had been useless for anything for a while after that, much to the annoyance of my newest aide and the _Galactica's _officer corps.

I'd been barely present through the last scheduled press briefing. Thank the gods Berry had rescued me from that last question; it may never have been actually discussed between us, but Bill and I had been of the same mind when it came to Kara. Namely, _delay delay delay._ Nerves had been stretched tight throughout the fleet for too damned long to risk having someone snap at learning the celebrated _and deceased_ Kara Thrace was still very much alive. I almost shuddered to think how the devout among us would react.

The incredible discretion of the crew of the _Nemesis_ was something else I gave thanks for. I had no idea how many of them had seen Starbuck first hand, but it seemed there had been next to nothing actually said about her to the rest of the fleet. I wondered if Commander Tigh's vanishing had something to do with this bit of good fortune.

"Madam President?" The pilot, Edmunson, called back to me. "We're on final approach to the _Olympus_."

I nodded, not trusting my voice. Dammit all, things were happening too fast for me to get a handle on them. And what was worse, there was a sizable part of me that wanted nothing more than to simply lie down and let events play out as they would. Certainly there seemed to be no shortage of capable hands in play, both among the fleet and from the Terrans themselves.

We had reached _Earth_, or at least were in its general vicinity, and made contact with its people. What more could I possibly accomplish, especially with my cancer at the stage it was in?

Not that I could share such thoughts with Bill or Lee, of course. I'd have enough of a fight with the Admiral and the Quorum to be allowed to take this little trip to visit our cousins. How Lee would take the news I had used the girls' presence aboard the _Olympus_ to sway his father I had no idea**. **There were days I wondered at the wisdom of allowing him to adopt them in the first place, given what an understandable mess he'd been these last two years. His forgetting Kacey's birthday, his seeming disinterest in Paya's obvious health problems, the ongoing whispers about his having visions of Captain Thrace, his tendency to argue with me over every initiative I tried to put forward to strengthen the government; all of this left _me_ wondering about his stability. The irony of that thought was laughable given who served me tea every morning.

If I weren't fighting so hard to keep my own thoughts clear and focused, I might have asked Elosha**'s** and Billy's opinion on it all. Billy himself was sitting across from me, at that very moment, looking as if he expected me to do exactly that. Having the _Galactica's _CAG and a brace of Marines crowded in with me was enough to still my tongue, and out of a bit of petty spite I pointedly ignored him. He didn't seem to take offense, and apparently got the message as he had vanished bythe next time I glanced his way. I wondered for a moment if this should have upset me or not, but that was quickly overridden by Major Novachek calling over to me.

"Madam President?"

I quickly blinked and gave myself a small shake. "Yes, Major?"

"We're here."

I blinked again and leaned forward to look out the forward canopy. Yes, we were definitely aboard a ship, and going by Bill's descriptions, it was definitely the landing bay of the _Olympus. _The line of Terran Vipers visible outside was proof enough of that. I struggled to my feet and smoothed my threadbare pants suit down as best my shaking hands could manage. No-one else present appeared to either notice or comment on my apparent nerves.

Being the good passenger, I stood to the side and waited for the hatch to be opened by one of the crew. Major Novachek took the lead, directing the Marines with hand signals and exchanged a few looks with the pilot and co-pilot. In moments, the Marines had formed up into an effective detail and were filing out the hatch as it hissed open.

The Major was then speaking to me quietly, "Madam President, I'll go first and..."

I immediately shook my head. "No, no. Thank you, Major, but it probably best if I go ahead." The Major's immediate protest was cut off by my saying "It's imperative we demonstrate trust in these people, Major. That includes little things like the President of the Twelve Colonies walking out to ask permission to board personally. Understood?"

The Major met my rebuke with a stony stare. "The Admiral's standing orders are that I not allow you to place yourself in any hazard."

That certainly sounded like something Bill Adama would order his CAG and personal attack dog to see to. Unfortunately, if the wording involved was a accurate (and I had no doubt it was a syllable-for-syllable transcription), Bill was basically telling Major Bulldog to not let me do anything that risked me so much as stubbing my toe. "Major..."

"All I ask, Madam President, is you refrain from charging off as you tend to."

"If I promise to remain in sight at all times, will that satisfy you, Major?"

"Will you swear it to the gods?" I was about to answer when he head up a hand and, looking suitably chagrined, added "Scratch that. I should know better."

"Major, I promise I will not go 'charging off' as you put it. At least, not without telling you first _and_ not without good reason."

The Major was clearly less than pleased with this, but equally clearly recognized this is was the best deal he was likely to get from me. I felt a little bad about that, given what he'd gone through in recent years and the circumstances that had led him to take his wings back. That was a total side issue, however, and I recognized the need to maintain our roles here. If that meant running roughshod over Major Bulldog's sense of pride, so be it. I made a mental note to find some way of making it up to him later, confident Billy wouldn't allow me to forget it.

Major Novachek however looked as if he were still going to argue. The man was nothing short of obstinate when it came to executing the Admiral's orders. He surprised me by saying "Home is just over the next hilltop, Ma'am. The Admiral would never forgive you or himself if you didn't see it with him."

I could only stare at the officer, blinking like a fool; I needed to force my jaw to remain closed. I knew there were levels to Major Bulldog most people missed; for example, his being a fan of Komarr Rhey's poetry shouldn't have been that surprising. Aloud, all I could say was "I have no plans to leave the Admiral to walk the last branch alone, Major." Clearing my throat, I added quietly "But we both know Fate makes no allowance and offers no apology for chance."

Clearly, my paraphrasing Neichara worked as I'd hoped. The Major gave me a small, grudging nod as he stepped fully aside from the hatch. "Madam President," he stated loudly as he activated the hatch. "We follow your lead."

"Thank you, Major," I nodded, carefully ducking my head and exiting the fat bird. The lights of the _Olympus_ flight deck were brighter than I was used to, but I managed to keep my hands down from instinctively trying to shield my eyes. I'd been deadly serious about the need to keep up appearances, especially when it came to my own fortitude. While Secretary Richards had gone to similar lengths to make it seem that his people were accepting and understanding of our fleet's weakened state, their resupply operations had been implemented with such little fanfare and difficulty as to seem perfectly rehearsed. _Everything_ seemed too rehearsed, and it put me off-balance in ways neither I nor the fleet could afford.

I might have found Secretary Richards' assurances somewhat more suspect were it not for the fact Captain Thrace had lived with these people for the last two years. That right there was an unsettling knot I couldn't see any way of untangling, especially given the slow but noticeable proliferation of mini-cults and creeds among the Sagitarrons, Gemenese, and Aerlerons. Richards had unknowingly helped there in his early announcements, making clear his people's commitment to religious freedom.

For a half-moment, I wondered if this would lead Baltar and his people to re-emerge from whatever dark corner they'd vanished into. Personally, I wouldn't have wept a tear if they were all found to have drunk hemlock, but I always made sure to keep such thoughts locked deep down inside me.

Brushing such thoughts aside, I carefully made my way down the Raptor's stubby wing and settled my feet on the deck, wobbling a bit as the heel of my left shoe started to come loose. And I thought I'd chosen the ones in the best condition, too. Gods alone knew what the assembled Terrans made of this. With a small sigh, I swallowed my embarrassment and turned to face the welcoming committee.

Commodore Avery-Hunter, Major Agathon, and Lee Adama stood there with an honor guard of twelve Terran Marines in what I guessed was regular duty uniforms. Standing directly before them was a dark-skinned officer who I guessed was Admiral Rice. While protocol may not been my strongest suit, I recalled the minimal training I'd had right before being sworn in as Secretary of Education. Surely, a visit from a Head of State rated something more than a dozen soldiers in regular uniform. My lips twitched with a rueful grin at my unconscious egotism; it reared its head at the oddest moments.

No sooner had my soles touched the deck plates, than Admiral Rice bellowed "President of the Twelve Colonies on deck!" The deck actually vibrated a little as every knuckle dragger, pilot and crewmember came to attention with a stomp of their left foot, turned our way, and snapped a sharp salute. It wasn't quite the welcome I'd expected, but it wasn't too shabby either. That in mind, there was protocol of my own to follow.

I waited until Admiral Rice approached before asking, "Permission to come aboard?"

"Permission granted, Madam President," the Terran Admiral nodded and smiled. "Welcome to _Olympus_."

"Thank you. Admiral Rice, is it?"

"It is."

"With me is Major Bob Novachek, CAG of _Galactica_."

Rice faced the pilot and saluted again. "Major, a pleasure."

"Sir," Bulldog nodded in exchange, returning the salute. Rice immediately turned back to me.

"I believe you know Commodore Avery-Hunter, the CO of _Olympus?_"

"I do. Hello again, Commodore."

"Ma'am," the Commodore said in his strange slightly muted accent as he saluted.

Rice gestured towards Agathon and Lee. "I'm sure you know your Major Agathon and Mr. Adama."

"Of course." I found Lee's presence actually surprised me a bit. Given his surprise announcement to Bill and me over the comms, I'd half-expected him to have handcuffed himself to Kara. Then again, given the...manner...of the claim itself, never mind the variety of legal and social implications behind it...

It was probably just as well Bill had stayed behind on _Galactica, _as I needed to sound Lee out on the circumstances behind his claim, something that really didn't need a wider audience when I did so. Bad enough I'd now have to bring in some of the clergy just satisfy the legal ends of it; word would likely circulate faster than an FTL jump once I made my first inquiry.

Well, that was for later. There and then, my only action was to greet my two subordinates and take the arm Admiral Rice offered. "May I offer you and your group a tour of _Olympus_, Madame President?"

"It would be an honor, Admiral," I accepted with commendable gravity, then paused and turned back to Agathon and Lee. "Major Agathon, I believe you have some other business needing attending to here?" My meaning was clear enough, at least to everyone except Major Bulldog, who kept his Triad-face fixed and firm.

"I probably should...yes. Yes, thank you, Madame President." He gave me a brief but mega-watt smile that explained why so many liked him. We were hardly friends, he and I, but that smile alone was enough to smooth most any waters between us.

Nodding, I turned and addressed Lee. "Mr. Adama, are you...needed...anywhere?"

"Not for another hour, Madam President."

He said this with such gallows finality I wondered if I shouldn't assign Major Bulldog to guard _him _instead. But then Bill would have likely thrown another fit and I had enough on my plate without heaping that onto the pile as well.

"In which case," I stated. "In which case, please accompany us for the time being. I'd like to hear your insights as we go."

"I'm always at your service, Madam President," he intoned, as proper and remote as the Algai Cliffs of Virgon were from Caprica City. It was nearly enough to have me decline the tour and drag him somewhere private so I could beat the details out of him, and then beat him some more until he snapped out of this absurd funk of his. Thankfully, the impulse to do so faded quickly, leaving me with the far more practical and achievable option of gently sounding him out while Rice showed off his ship. That would, Lords willing, be more than enough time to tease out what I needed to know to ensure my family was finally made whole. It was also a chance to meet my littlest 'granddaughter' as well, provided I could slip the leash of my well-intentioned Major Bulldog long enough to do so.

Well, this visit was my own idea, and I had promised Bill I'd look in on our girls. It was all just a matter of timing things _just _right so I didn't end up wounding certain people's egos _too_ badly.

TBC...


	47. Chapter 47

**Part 47**

**Battlestar Olympus  
Conference Delta**

**+30:29:57**

_**(Apollo)**_

Helo took one look at me and just _knew_ everything. His expression was something between a glare, a smirk and a roll-of-the-eyes, although none of that made it into his voice as he stated, "Delegate Adama. What brings you here?"

The few other Terran officers present looked up, looked me over for a second, then returned to their respective tasks. One however did stand out and approached me, snapping a formal salute and addressing me in modern Caprican. "Mr. Delegate. Commodore Richard Avery-Hunter, Sir. Commanding Officer of the _Olympus._"

I extended my hand, which the officer readily took in a strong grip. "Lee Adama, Quorum Delegate for Caprica. It's an honor, Comman -- sorry. Commodore." I offered what I hoped was a placating smile. "Sorry. Your rank isn't one that we use."

"Quite alright, Sir. Major Agathon and your people have been a great help smoothing things there." He gave me a slightly sly look. "Although issues like that weren't shall we say_ unexpected_."

I motioned the Commodore to come closer and asked in a quiet voice "Colonel Thrace explained ou**r** military ranks and structure?"

"Quite carefully, and in detail," the Terran officer confirmed. "She never compromised your people in any technical way, Sir. My oath to god." I must've flinched a little at this well-intentioned effort, as the Commodore quickly added "I mean gods, Sir."

"It's all right, Commodore," I tried to reassure him. "Religion has never held that much sway for me." At least it hadn't until I started having visions of Kara, but there was no way I was going to broach that subject with the Terrans. I could barely believe I'd told Kara herself about them. It was a wonder she hadn't just grabbed the girls quicker and hidden them away from me, given I was obviously a complete lunatic and shouldn't be allowed near them. Her almost-condemnation of my parenting skills wasn't something I would have been able to argue against.

The Terrans -- and Helo for that matter -- didn't need to know about that little exchange, and I had no inclination to apprise them of it. To cover it further, I asked "Resupply operations going smoothly?"

"As a baby's bottom, Mr. Delegate." It took a moment to comprehend the officer's meaning, but I couldn't help but smirk at understanding.

"Strange phrase."

"Sorry," the Terran chuckled. "I didn't mean to offend."

"No offense taken, Comma -- Commodore." I had to shake my head. "This is going to take some getting used to."

"Again, it's all right, Sir."

"Hmm." This didn't entirely convince me, but there were other, more immediate issues at hand. "You should both know the President of the Colonies is coming aboard _Olympus_. She's likely already en route here."

"An official visit?"

I shook my head. "More likely just a friendly photo-op for our fleet to see." After a beat I added, "You're aware she has -- health issues, right?"

"The Colonel made it point to investigate cancer therapies as soon as she could communicate with us." Another Terran officer moved towards us, causing the Commodore to give us a nod and move off. I hoped the man was smart enough to let his subordinates do their jobs without him constantly looking over their shoulders. That was provided his subordinates _knew_ their jobs in the first place. Having interacted with some of their crews on the other ships in our fleet, I had the sense this was a new experience for them all. You might not have known it at first or second glance, but there was an undercurrent of unease that was only partially buried beneath their seemingly flawless efficiency.

I pondered his words for a moment before turning to Helo, who was staring at me again with those damned knowing eyes of his. "What?"

"You make sure to give the Colonel a thorough _de_briefing, Mister Delegate?" There were so many ways to take that, yet his expression gave me nothing to work with. I'd become increasingly lousy at reading people's moods – at least outside of any professional setting – ever since Kara's death in that storm. Funny how this had never consciously occurred to me until just then, the abundance of evidence having been staring me in the face all this time.

Helo was clearly expecting an answer to this, and the way he was flexing his hands made me wonder if he wasn't prepared to just beat one out of me. Not that I could have blamed him.

"Pretty thorough," I nodded, opting for a reasonably neutral response, and then added a look of my own. "The _nugget_ certainly was a surprise."

Major Agathon shook his head once, looking and sounding thoroughly unrepentant. "Can't speak to that, Mr. Delegate, as I haven't met 'em yet."

"You're kidding?" Helo looked at me again, this time with such honesty I had to believe it. "Frak, you really haven't seen -- her -- yet."

"Kara didn't mention anything while she was aboard _Nemesis_. Sharon noticed the stretch marks, but didn't call attention to it." He actually sounded a little aggrieved at this non-disclosure. I could relate.

"When did Athena -- never mind." I shook my head to clear it. Too much, too frakking much to track and it was going every which direction. To top it all off there was the fact I'd declared a personal tie to Kara Thrace that was traditionally more intimate and binding than marriage, never mind that _she_ was demanding her name go on the girls' adoption papers. At this point I'd be lucky if she let me so much as hug any of them in the near-to-distant future, provided she allowed me to even settle on the same continent as them. Familiar Rights was the product of the old Picon matriarchy, after all, meaning Kara had first say in -- well, everything now. Gods, but I was frakked when she laid eyes on me next, to say nothing of what Roslin and the Old Man were likely to put me through for this.

Helo's voice shook me out of my distraction. "You okay, Apollo? You went kinda pale there for a second."

"Yeah," I muttered, convincing neither of us. I cleared my throat and tried again. "Yeah, yeah. Its just -- everything."

"I'm with ya," Helo nodded. "C'mon. Let me get you some coffee and you can catch me up on her."

I let Helo lead me over to an unoccupied table and pour me a mug of something tepid from a nearby carafe. Mentally I was still wrestling with how seriously I'd frakked up with Kara and claiming those Rights. What if she remembered that night in her apartment, right after Zak died when we were both ready to eat a bullet? If anything that simply solidified the claim itself; off the top of my head I could name three priests who'd happily testify publicly that I was now Kara's personal property, lacked any voting or parental rights, and immediately required piercings in my right eyebrow _and _under the head of my dick to symbolize her ownership. If Kara was half the traditionalists I remembered, she'd probably forego the piercings and just brand something appropriately obscene on my chest with a hot iron.

I couldn't help but wince at the image of _Kara's Personal Frak Boy Toy_ marking me for the rest of our lives.

This must have prompted Helo to ask "How are you, Apollo? Really?"

"Tired," was my immediate and surprisingly honest answer. "Bone-dead tired." Giving him a sideways glance, I added "And _not_ simply because I've just spent nine hours in a storage closet with --"

"Whoa," Helo laughed, blushing and holding up both hands. "Too much intel." He had a point, and I was suddenly gripped by the urge to crawl under the table. As it was I just slapped both hands over my face and moan.

"Right. Sorry." I let my hands fall into my lap and stared at them. "She still has her marriage tattoo," was my otherwise useless observation.

"No surprise. Sharon told her bout Sam and Tory while they were in decontamination here."

"I haven't thought about that in months." I sighed, feeling every second of the last forty-plus hours. I hadn't stopped moving since _Nemesis_ had jumped into this system on recon, mediating and cajoling and coddling and threatening every captain and officer that crossed my path. The rumblings about appointing me President never seemed to die down anymore. The President herself did nothing to counter them. I was even starting to suspect she'd directed Berry to quietly encourage such talk, if only to keep the Vice-President in check and limit my options. Weak and fading as she might have been, Laura Roslin was nothing if not ruthless when it came to ensuring the survival of our people. She'd use every tool at hand, and gods knew I made a great wrench when needed.

There was a practical benefit to this, in that I'd have a legitimate excuse for keeping my distance from Kara and the girls now. Oh, I'd own up to my claim in a heartbeat and use every bit of leverage my nominal office allowed to ensure the four of them were seen to, not that Kara and Aurora seemed to be hurting any. There was, however, only so much self-inflicted humiliation a body could stand. While the image of me kneeling at Kara's feet for the rest of my days wasn't all that -- unwelcome -- well, there were worse ways to spend a lifetime than being the personal property of a goddess --

Such musings must have shown on my face, as Helo felt compelled to reach over and give me a shake on the shoulder. "Hey, Apollo? Hell-lo?"

"Sorry," was all I could mutter, the image of me taking the Oath of Office wearing my traditional piercings and a slave collar -- and nothing else -- causing a noticeable wince and me rubbing my temples. Thankfully the table hid the _rest _of my -- reaction.

"It can't be that bad, Lee."

He had _no_ idea, but then how could he? I nevertheless turned up the melodrama as a safeguard. "Oh, yes it frakking can."

"Really? How?"

"She wants to put her name on the adoption papers for the girls."

"That's a bad thing?"

Fixing the Major with a look, I asked "Kara as a mother? Do you see that as a good thing?"

"Yeah, I do actually." Helo said this with a meaningful look that dared any kind of argument otherwise. Never mind the perverse fact I found myself wholeheartedly agreeing with him, Helo's quiet conviction on this point further loosened my damned tongue.

"Not like she could be worse than me," was my muttered agreement. The ceiling, with its variety of pipes and conduits, proved quite the attention-grabber for a short span. Helo must have seen something because he quietly slid out of the chair and went over to speak with the Terran officers. My preoccupation was more than enough to blank out nearly all of what was being said, catching only the odd word of "President" and "convoy". This probably should have bothered me more than it did, but I wasn't really there in any meaningful sense, and so didn't feel more than a tremor of worry about what I was missing.

No, everything I worried over was sitting in a cabin two levels down and behind a locked door. Kara's claiming them as "our girls" notwithstanding, even I wasn't naïve enough to think she'd let me near either Kacey or Paya again for a very, very long while. And Aurora, mustn't forget her, as if I could get the image of those round cheeks and brilliant eyes out of my head for even a second. _Gods,_ I gasped silently, chest unexpectedly tight and wondering faintly where all the oxygen went. Just fifteen minutes and that damned toddler had me under her spell. Had my father seen her as well? Little wonder he'd been so frakking cagey about everything.

Suddenly there was a ship wide announcement coming over the comms, something which had the Terrans suddenly clearing papers and the Commodore gesturing sharply. I took a sip from my mug, surprised at the cold taste to the coffee. How long had I been sitting there like a deactivated centurion? "What's happening?" I called to Helo.

"President's arriving," he replied, righting his uniform jacket and tugging the sleeves. I downed the rest of my coffee and straightened my own tie and jacket.

"Guess we'd better go down and meet her, huh?"

"Guess we should," Helo affirmed. Commodore Avery-Hunter suddenly appeared at our sides.

"This way, Gentlemen." His voice was gruffer than before, communicating something between annoyance and outright displeasure _without _actually going there. The Old Man would have no doubt been envious, having needed most of his life to accomplish that. It was nearly enough to have me laughing all the way to the flight deck.

Gods knew there'd be little enough reason to laugh from there on, so I'd take whatever little hilarity I could find in this insanity.

tbc…


	48. Chapter 48

**Part 48**

**Battlestar Olympus  
Quarters of Colonel Kara Thrace**

**+31:44:09**

_**(Starbuck)**_

Ka**c**ey was nowhere near ready to forgive my abandonment of two years ago, but after a little more cuddling on my lap, she was at least willing to disengage from around my neck and let me stand on my own two feet. She kept me in her personal LOS, which was a given. I likewise caught Paya casting quick glances my way every few seconds; she wasn't trying to be sly or subtle about checking me out.

The only one present who wasn't checking my continued presence was Aurora, who had rolled onto her side and fallen asleep, clinging to her stuffed bear with her chin and nose burrowed into its fur. The first time she'd done so had left me so panicked I'd called Shan and wept that I'd let my baby smother herself. I was so hysterical I hadn't even thought to check my little nugget was still breathing.

Thankfully, my aide lived next door and calmly showed me my mistake. How she put up with a headcase like me I will never know, especially since I still panicked every now and then and was calling her over at odd hours. If it had been any of the pilots I trained, they'd have likely all called in a strafing run on my ass by now.

Then again, as she'd growled, _"I'm on leave, Colonel,"_ at me in Conference Blue, I might well be on my own from here on. Looking after Aurora was one thing, but adding two more girls might send me looking for another maelstrom to lose myself in before long.

The chuckle accompanying this crazy thought came out more like a choked sob. My gods, what the -- what was I thinking, even _imagining_ vanishing from Aurora's, Kacey's and Paya's lives like that? Who'd take care of them, teach them, kiss their hurts and -- and -- Lee! I couldn't just -- just vanish from his life _again_ -- could I? What if -- what if -- whatever had brought me here meant to keep me around just long enough to -- to what?

What if I did vanish -- or ascend -- or whatthefrakever? What if it happened right there, in front of the girls? I could see how it would all play out: Kacey would never, _ever_ forgive me and Paya would never get the chance to know me and Aurora would -- gods -- I just _knew_ Aurora would end up _hating_ me for the rest of her life -- and no one, not even Lee, would be able to tell her different!

I didn't do a good job of hiding my distress, because there was a frantic tugging on my pants leg, and quiet if plaintive call of "Kaa-rah?" Shaking my head and vision clear, I realized Kacey was looking up at me with wide and frightened eyes. Frak, but this was turning into a worse mess by the minute, and I really had only myself to blame for it. Well, as it was my mess, I damn well better clear as much of it up as I could before Lee came back and saw what I'd done. It wasn't like he didn't have enough reason to declare me unfit for motherhood as it was.

I gave myself another shake and crouched down so Kacey and I were, more or less, at eye-level. She was hitting me with teary eyes that made me nearly choke on my words. "Everything's okay, Kacey."

"Promise?"

"Promise." This didn't have quite the calming affect I'd hoped as Kacey promptly threw both arms around my neck and sobbed.

"Don' go! Don't want you to go again!"

Was the child an Oracle or just venting a perfectly normal thought, given the circumstances? Neither would have surprised me. I didn't try to disengage her grip on me either; I'd take the mild discomfort of her hanging on me over her turning into a complete basket case any day of the week. So I held onto her as tightly as she did me and ignored the ache this was causing in my lower back.

Paya padded silently over to us and watched with very guarded eyes. Before she could pull away, I reached out and drew her in as well. She didn't resist, but didn't lean into the embrace either. Aurora remained, mercifully, asleep during this. Just as well, given I couldn't think how I would have squeezed my littlest nugget into the mix as well.

Eventually Kacey started pushing on my chest, which I took as a sign she wanted to disengage. I carefully pulled back, not releasing my grip on either of them entirely. "Feel better?", was my question to them both. Paya nodded quicker than Kacey, who rubbed her eyes before giving a single bob of her chin. I recognized the signs and suggested, "How about all of us lay down for a nap? How about that?"

"Not tired." She rubbed eyes again and threw a very Lee-like glare. "I'm not!"

"Then how about you and Paya watch me and Aurora take a nap?" Thank the gods Shan's younger sibs were frequent guests at my place, otherwise I'd have never learned this particular trick. My own nuggets were apparently no less susceptible to such blatant subterfuge, acceptance in their eyes if not their stances. I took a moment to gather up Aurora, then effectively herded the older pair back to my rack. I laid Aurora in her portable crib while gently nudging Paya and Kacey toward the bed. They climbed onto it with minimal prompting, arranging themselves so they were sitting with their backs against the bulkhead and watching me doff my jacket and boots, both with hooded eyes.

I settled myself down as well, rolling onto my side and resting my head on my folded hands. I even made a show of closing my eyes, which was a bit of a mistake as I promptly fell asleep myself. It shouldn't have been that big a surprise, given what I'd spent the last twelve hours doing.

As it was? I just fell out, and didn't even realize it until I opened my eyes and saw the wall-clock reporting it was an hour later. I quickly rolled about and let go a relieved breath at seeing both girls had nodded off themselves. Careful to keep the jostling to a minimum, I exited the bed and the bunk with my jacket and boots in hand, freezing as soon as I had one foot out the door.

My conflict was simple enough. Kacey was sure to read some kind of subtext into my absence should she wake and find me missing, so I obviously I had to stay within easy sight. The problem there was that my rack just wasn't that large, and gods knew I'd been cooped up enough in the last three days. I wasn't sure I could stand to just sit there and watch my girls sleep, at least not without getting snappish towards them at some point, which was something to be avoided.

I'd been serious as death that we were all going to be together now, which meant keeping tempers cool as possible for as long as possible. Especially given it was looking more and more certain they was going to be going up on the cockpit with me once we were on the ground. I nearly laughed at the mental image of the three of them in miniature flight suits and helmets; it was a sweet little scene that nearly sent me into hysterics. And not the good kind, either.

What it also did was propel me through the hatch and into my front room, hand firmly over my mouth to muffle what little laughter _did _come through. I even managed to stumble far enough to park my fool ass onto the coffee table before my knees gave out. Oh gods, but I was a mess in the head; Lee would take one look at me and the girls would be gone from my life for good.

What the frak was wrong with me? One second I'm ready to turn the three of them over my knee for nothing, the next I'm about to break down into hysterics, again for nothing. Was I really so cracked that the girls would be better off with Lee alone? I'd been okay with Aurora for -- well, her entire life.

Then, I hadn't had Lee Adama swooping in and pulling a certain bit of the past, a half-remembered/half-denied one at that, out of the metaphorical ground and waved it for the entire world to see. It was the sort of _thing_ polite company never discusses and _impolite_ company doesn't even acknowledge because it's simply too frakked up. That's probably what was actually getting to me most; the fact Lee remembered what had happened, and _how_ it happened, and _who_ started it, and _why_ --

Oh, but that last one was what still stunned the most. I didn't have a decent excuse for it either, unlike Lee, who'd been a half-bottle away from terminal alcohol poisoning at the time. Me? I'd just given in to my worst instincts, indulged in my nasty little fantasies, and basically just used Lee to mute the pain for a bit.

I had to wonder how much of it he actually remembered and with how much detail. It was mostly hazy for me, although I'd woken up the next morning feeling like I'd been speared and satisfied by the whole frakking pantheon. It felt -- _I'd_ felt -- good, even right -- which in itself was so frakked up it shut me down so thoroughly that I can't remember saying ten words to anyone from that morning until I reported for posting on _Galactica._ It didn't even register that Lee had left my bed before I awoken until much, much later.

Lee didn't know it, but it was just as well I'd been in hack the day of the attacks. I'd been remembering what happened -- what I _think_ happened -- in dreams for the ten days prior. So by the time he showed up I was so _worked _up that I'd have either strangled him, or laid claim on him for myself. 'Familiar Rights' worked both ways and had origins in matriarchy. Whether Lee would have gone along with it or not was something we'd fortunately never have to test.

This bizarre line of thought miraculously evened me out, my hysterics gone and my breathing coming normally. It did leave me a little shaky however, which made putting my boots and jacket back on a bit of a trial. I was riding the downward slope of an adrenaline crash and was almost weeping for some coffee. Rubbing my face, I decided to call the galley and get some food sent over; the girls had probably been subsisting on creatively-used algae for awhile, so anything I ordered for them would have to be on the light side. A call over to Med Deck for some input from Stitches wasn't a bad idea either.

I was picking up the receiver and about to dial the General Address code when the door chime sounded. Hitting the intercom, I answered with a terse, "Yes?"

"_A Major Agathon here to see you, Ma'am."_

Chewing my lip for a moment, I asked "Is he alone?"

"_No, Ma'am. The XO is with him, acting as translator."_

That left me with the burning question of whether I could handle Helo _plus_ the three nuggets, who were sure to wake up any instant. One or the other was no problem, but both? Then it hit me that the three-hour leave Lee had given me would expire soon, and Karl Agathon was good for nothing if not acting as a convenient wall. Lee would have to dish out his worst to get past him -- unless he immediately ordered me to strip down and lick his shoes, which I might well do without orders; just on general principle --

Gods, my head was a still a mess. Maybe inflicting it on Helo wasn't such a good idea. No telling what Sharon would do to me if I left her pretty husband as bad a wreck as I was.

"_Colonel?"_ the intercom buzzed at me.

"Stand-by," was my reply, taking an extra moment to button my jacket up properly, ultimately thinking _Hell with it_ and hitting the lock. It immediately disengaged and the door was pushed open, Helo quickly stepping in and pushed it shut again, probably because he thought I might bolt if given the chance. Smart guy.

"Hey," he grinned.

"Hey," was my witty and verbose reply. He opened his arms and my feet accepted the invitation before my brain caught up with them. Being held by my best friend after so frakking long was nice, however, and I had zero incentive to move.

At least until the big, beautiful idiot opened his mouth, that is.

Tbc…


	49. Chapter 49

**Part 49**

**Battlestar **_**Olympus  
**_**Quarters of Colonel Kara Thrace**

**+32:07:07**

_**(Helo)**_

For someone who had blown up, she looked good. Felt good, too, holding her. She felt solid, dependable, _real._

To be honest, I hadn't fully believed it was her until that very moment. Our time aboard _Nemesis_ had been too short, and her actual presence too much of a shock for me to process it properly. Never mind how -- respectful -- she'd been towards Tigh; very _un-Kara-ish_ behavior. Kara saying she hadn't visited Lee in the nebula should not have been surprising, given no one I knew had ever put any actual stock in his crazy claims. There had been times over the last couple of days, like every other hour, that I was almost sure I had succumbed to the same madness that had gripped Apollo for the last two years.

It was one thing to be sharing hallucinations with Lee Adama; it was another to have your best friend, whose death you'd witnessed and mourned and ultimately moved on from, to be living and breathing in your own two arms. Believe me when I say hugging her was about the most surreal experience I'd ever gone through, beyond even seeing Sharon's spine glow when she was riding me. I suspected my wife had positioned those mirrors in our bedroom for precisely that purpose.

I nearly laughed at that one, which caused Kara to just tighten her hold on me. It took another second for me to notice the shakes that were vibrating through her. Gods, where was my head? If I were having a hard time with it, what about her? So far she'd been subjected to the Old Man, and then Lee on top of that. I didn't see any damage to her from the last one, but then neither had Lee, and it had been obvious to everyone he was waling wounded.

"I'm sorry," was out of my mouth before I knew it.

"Hmm?" Kara hummed into my chest before pulling back, regarding me with those discerning green eyes I'd once found irresistible. True, they were partially obscured by tears right then, but that didn't impede their power in the slightest.

"I'm sorry," I repeated. "I should have tried to intercept Lee before he got -- you know --"

She shook her head and frowned. "No. No, I don't know. What the frak are you talking about, Agathon?"

"Well, you can't tell me it wasn't a surprise he was here, right?" The look that passed over her face, at least the bit that I caught before she started studying her boots, communicated something a little different than simple surprise. "Kara?" I began, only to have her step away and out of easy reach.

"Yeah," she finally agreed, head still bowed. "Yeah, it was a -- a surprise."

I ventured another question. "How'd he take the news?"

"News?"

"About the, um –" I hesitated, realizing I didn't know the name of the baby. It was a girl, at least according to the Terrans, but that was all I knew. It -- _she_ -- could have two heads and six arms for all I knew now, the image of which let me know just how ridiculous I was being.

"About?" Kara prompted, sounding more familiar than ever. She seemed out of practice with her glare, however.

"The Nugget," was all my abused brain could offer.

"Ah, that."

"Yeah, _that._" I shuffled my feet and asked, "Why didn't you say something?"

She regarded me blandly, the way she always did right before trying to verbally cut to the bone. "Say something -- when, Helo?"

"Well, when --"Any number of points in time came to mind, but she didn't allow me to choose.

"When did I have the chance to say _anything_, Agathon? Hmm? The day I flew off and got myself – blown up – or whatever happened that landed me here? The instant you guys jumped on top of me and Greyhound? When Tigh threatened to blow me out of the sky? While we were wandering around that basestar you guys have? When I had to stand there and let Tigh accuse me of driving Apollo off the deep end? Hmm? Would any of those have worked for you?"

Her tone was brittle and voice getting higher and higher. It was probably a good time to start walking back from my earlier, ill-timed comment. "I didn't mean --"

Kara, naturally enough, wasn't having any of it. "My life has been a frakking whirlwind since I woke up and found myself on Earth, Helo. They need me to train their whole frakking air force from the ground up. Plus I've got Aurora, an' Kacey and Paya too now, so I've always _got_ to be home on time or she -- or Aurora will start to forget me. Hell, I -- I'm not even supposed to be up here, out here, in space. Too valuable to the UN because I have more stick-time in space than anyone else they've got. _And_ Ben says the Euros and Chinese are constantly asking after me -- and -- and -- ah, frak it, Helo!"

My arms were back around her and she was sinking into my chest without complaint after that little outburst. Next chance I got, I was going to grill either Admiral Rice or whichever of his officers were available for details on her time among them. Aurora (cute name for what was surely a cute kid) aside, I'm sure the Admiral and the President were going to want as much detail as I could gather. I wondered briefly how much Lee had gotten out of her -- _if_ he'd gotten anything out of her. I had no illusions they'd -- but surely they hadn't been -- I mean, they couldn't have --- for nine frakking hours?

_Oooo, bad choice of phrase, Agathon. Gods alone what those two were really doing all that time. _Apollo and Starbuck together -- that is _together_ together -- was something everyone gossiped about and bet on (and against) and joked over. It had almost become a joke in and of itself, the sort only pilots could understand. Apollo exchanging his wings for a suit, all the while claiming he was seeing visions of Kara, hadn't slowed down the jokes or the rumors much. But it had always been in the abstract, a remote possibility, an intellectual exercise.

The physical confirmation of it, in the form of a couple poorly-hidden 'love bites' on my friend's neck, was something I really, _really_ wasn't prepared to broach. My choice of subjects with which to deflect it was, sadly, as lacking as my intestinal fortitude. "I saw Lee a short bit ago --"

"You mean my owner." This was said so matter of fact, so breezily, it took an extra moment or five to process it.

"What?"

Kara snickered and carefully enunciated "You mean _my owner_." I pulled back and stared, which led her to snicker again. "What? He didn't tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"He called the Old Man and -- and claimed me under Familiar Rights."

This likewise took a moment or ten, closer to twenty, to process. Mainly because it took that long to remember what 'Familiar Rights' constituted. I had to think back, way back, to Primary School and Comprehensive History. Miss Castor had been nothing if not thorough in her treatment of our home world's varied stories, and standing there I could almost hear her nasal voice explaining the tradition in question with the same exaggerated patience she did everything else.

"_Familiar Rights was a tradition amongst the First Covenant Houses on Picon, dating back one and a half thousand years. It was at the time the primary vehicle for the Matriarchs of the Covenant Houses to secure both husbands and family status, allowing a woman to legally bind herself to a given man without requiring the Lord's blessing or a formal marriage. This was usually done in lieu of marriage, one or the other party's simply needing to declare the Rights invoked with a demonstration of a family link between them; this link generally was no more than a common ancestor or cousin, but could even include a marriage to a cousin, parent or sibling. The Gemonese practice a variant of this today, which has been supported by the Courts --"_

I took another look at my friend, searching for any outward signs of distress or anger. I wouldn't blame her if she harbored either towards Apollo. The First Covenant period was notorious for its decadence and social inequalities, although the more I thought about it, the more Apollo's reaction made more sense than Starbuck's. Miss Castor was emphatic on the practical consequences of this tradition:

"_Invoking this tradition was entirely about the Matriarchy's continued hold on the levers of power. While the men continued on as head of households, it was the women who controlled the house itself. For a woman to invoke them was for her to declare herself Mistress of the house and its occupants. A man would do so primarily to maintain the house's status, but it was recognized he did not speak any further than that."_

Like any perfectly healthy young man growing up in industrial Caprica, I'd watched my share of _red_-and-_yellow_ movies. It might have been soft-core stuff, but the dramatizations of First Covenant Picon left no question about who wore the proverbial pants there; especially given that, to a one, none of the male actors ever wore any. If I recalled correctly, even the advent of Forum Democracy hadn't displaced the Matriarchs, given the men weren't allowed to vote for a good long while. Small wonder Apollo had looked so out of it in the Ward Room. He'd probably been contemplating life as Kara's personal footstool.

This didn't explain why Kara seemed to have it backwards. Maybe it was her upbringing to think of herself as permanently at the bottom of the totem pole. Maybe she was just naturally kinkier than an irregular pentagon and always thought in terms of master/slave. I immediately shook my head, hard, to dislodge the image of -- _that_ -- from my consciousness. It was worse than trying to imagine my own mother naked.

Refocusing on the woman before me, I was tempted to reach out again, but immediately stopped myself. Kara wasn't the most tactile of people when in this kind of turmoil. I tried to reach her a different way, hoping it would work. "Kara, I don't think that's what Lee meant."

She graced me with a pitying look. "Doesn't matter what he meant, Helo. He told his father _and_ the President."

"And what was their response?"

"Don't know," she shrugged. "I was too pissed off he'd dragged Zak into this that I stopped listening."

I felt like I'd just ejected out of a Raptor with the faceplate of my helmet blackened out. _That's_ how lost I felt at hearing this. What the frak Zak Adama, who'd been dead for the last seven-plus years had to do with anything was frankly beyond me. I couldn't see Lee bringing up his brother in this or any other context, especially not if he and Kara were -- had --

My brain again shied away from that line of thought. It must have showed because Kara gave a loud snort and said "Get your mind out of the gutter, Agathon."

I was only too happy to comply. "Look, Kara, whatever's between you and Lee – it's not -- it's not serious, is it?"

"Serious?" She blinked at me, all contrived innocence and charm. "As in 'I've just frakked up our chances of reaching Earth' serious? Or 'I've turned Lee into a convictable head case' serious?" My answering look, something between unamused and vicious, must have answered the question as she put both hands and moaned, "For frak sakes, Helo. You think I'd do something like _that_?"

It went unmentioned she didn't specify which "that" she was referring to. I wasn't sure which I meant either, but there was no reason to let her know that, so I kept quiet and let her stew.

She soon looked contrite and even a bit ashamed, leaving me to wonder if I'd overdone it. "I don't know what the frak I'm doing with Lee, Helo. I just know -- he's made a claim I can't get out of."

"Would you want to?" The question had to be asked, and there was no one else present to do it.

"I --"Her voice gave out after that one syllable, leaving me to wonder if she even had an answer. As it was, the nuggets in the next room all roused, as testified by the trio of small voices alternately crying and calling out incoherently. Kara sighed and said, "Want to meet Aurora?"

I smiled. "Try to keep me away." She offered a tired smile in exchange and led me through the hatch to what, presumably, was her rack. It was a spare little room, the bed taking up entirely too much of it. I recognized Kacey and Paya, who were huddled together and casting wide eyes all about. My own eyes, no less wide, were drawn immediately to the folding crib at the foot of the bed itself. More specifically, to the miniature Kara Thrace who was doing her level best to pull herself _over_ the side of said cradle, and coming frighteningly close to succeeding.

Kara naturally was quicker to react than I was, gathering her small clone into her arms, then turning and depositing her into mine without so much as a by-your-leave. Probably just as well as it forced me to act on instinct and cradle the child to me, with her hitting me with a pretty irresistible little smile.

"Um, hi?" was about all I could manage as that little smile got very, very big. I barely heard the rest of what was happening in the room as Aurora gazed up at me, leaving me with but on singular, coherent thought:

_Yes, a really cute kid._

Tbc…

**

* * *

De Author Seez: **_Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know its been a long while. Sadly, it may be longer still before any more; the family finances are...bad...and getting worse. Consequently Internet is likely going to become a luxury rather than a given. Plus which I've more or less mapped out how the rest of this story is going to go, which has caused it to stretch from 60 chapters to maybe 100; but then that'll be the end of it. _

_In that vein, I might be tempted to show a scene or two of the future. Maybe. Here's hoping the Muse will be kind.  
_


	50. Chapter 50

_This one is for The Breeze, who got me off my duff and made me finish this chapter (which I confess has lingered for a long, long while). Lemme know if I should continue on!_

**Part 50**

**Colonial Basestar **_**Nemesis  
**_**Lower Hull, Forward Pylon**

**+31:16:50**

_**(Athena)**_

I wasn't really offended or upset that my husband spent had the last twenty hours aboard the Terran battlestar. Or, that he'd probably spent most of that time with a surprisingly un-dead Viper pilot (and whatever spawn of hers had left those stretch marks on her), getting vital intel that would make him the second most valuable officer in this fleet. I wasn't even mildly irritated that, thanks to our ship's CO going missing, I was left in command. Compared to raising daughters, riding herd on a collection of pilots, knuckledraggers and barely-trained technicians, this was a snap.

What had me annoyed, badly annoyed, was that I had spent a fair number of hours now down in the literal guts of the _Nemesis_. That might have been tolerable, even preferably given what a bottle of lightning Hera was becoming, if I only knew what was causing the heating and circulation systems to seize up. It was causing problems with Little Delphi, and while complaints about waste recycling getting backed-up should have been lower on the list of priorities for CO to worry over, I was only too aware of how small problems like this could rapidly balloon aboard a basestar.

Hence, my careful crawling around the lowest decks of the ship, rapidly getting soaked from the dripping humidity there, made me wonder how many appendages I could remove from my husband before he became useless to me and to the fleet. It made for a nice diversion from worrying myself sick over him, the girls, and everything else. God, when exactly did I turn into such an old maid that every little thing was magnified into a personal crisis? Probably around the same time I found out I was pregnant again. Cottle had made it clear I wasn't off-rotation, yet, but that could change if I started pushing it. God alone knew what he'd make of my little expedition down here.

The good news was that I'd managed to trace where the problem was down the conduit level. Unlike the problem upstairs sixteen hours earlier, this one was purely mechanical and thus easier to identify. We still hadn't found out who was behind the mysterious uniform, or why they'd seen fit to stuff it into the waste ducts like that. The material was so sodden and decayed it practically fell apart before I could bag and tag it. The Old Man hadn't made an issue of it, likely as he had his own problems to deal with.

It was the condensers, of course. The frakking condensers that fed the recycling tanks were knocked out of alignment. In and of itself not a major worry, but damn if it wasn't a bitch to get them back into position thanks to each weighing just shy of half a ton. Luckily they weren't disconnected from either the waste conduits or the tank itself, and it was a relatively simple matter of shoving them back into place. The fact all four were located atop the tank made it marginally easier on me, causing me to suffer only a _little_ muscle-strain.

That little chore and a quick check of the seals for each unitcompleted, and confirming there wasn't any leakage, I sat down on the tanks lid and let my legs dangle over the edge while I rubbed my aching shoulder. _What happened down here?_I wondered. The condensers themselves weren't damaged, and the only way I could image that they'd misalign like that was if something hit the tank itself. The damned thing was close to impenetrable, but it actually rested on a cradle structure and wasn't entirely secured. Still, nobody came down to these levels that I knew of. So what…

This line of thought came to an abrupt halt when I stood and my left shoulder brushed against some of the nearby tubing. The result was instantaneous: a heavy form was dislodged from where it had been suspended overhead and came crashing down, narrowly missing me and giving me the shock of my life. It was by God's grace alone I didn't go tumbling over the side of the tank myself.

Actually, the _real_ shock came a few seconds later, when I could make out the details of what had just landed beside me. It was bad enough that it all came to me in bit-sized pieces:

It was a _body_.

It was a _headless_ body.

It was a headless body wearing Dress Blues.

It was a headless body wearing Dress Blues with Commander's pips on the collar.

I could only stand there and stare at it, barely recognizing my voice muttering, "You have got to be frakking kidding me."

**

* * *

**

+32:03:48

I cleared everyone out of the Tac Room before getting a secure line to _Galactica _Actual, who thankfully took a lot less time than I did to pull it together. _"You're sure about this?__**,**__"_ he demanded.

"It…it was Commander Tigh's body, Sir."

"_Could it have been a plant? Some kind of trick?"_ Okay, maybe the Old Man wasn't as together as he sounded.

"Sir, he…there were identifiable markings…"

"_Like what?"_

I thought for a few seconds. "He had two scars on the back of his right hand, plus a broken fingernail in the same hand from last week."

"_Can you…can you take fingerprints?"_

I'd thought of that myself but had to admit "I don't think we have the necessary equipment, Sir. I wouldn't know what to try to produce to…"

"_Okay, okay."_ The gentle hiss of white noise carried on for several long seconds. _"I'll brief the President. Did you…did you find his head?"_

"Negative, Sir. I, uh, I felt I should alert you rather than delay."

"_And where is the…where's his body?"_

"I…secured it in, um…"

"_Where?"_

"A waste storage barrel. An _empty_ barrel." More white noise followed. "I needed somewhere secure so decomposition wouldn't be an issue," I added in defense.

"_Good thinking, Captain," _the Old Man finally said. _"You acted appropriately."_

"Sir, should I, um, attempt to find…his head?"

"_If possible, but otherwise seal that area for the time being. And keep this compartmentalized."_

"Even from Helo?" I really didn't think I could keep something like this from him, if only because we lived together and he could read me like an open book. This was one of the many reasons we never played Triad except in our quarters.

"_No,"_ the Admiral demurred. _"Alert the Major when he returns to _Nemesis_. But otherwise keep it all quiet."_

"And the Terrans, Sir?"

"_I repeat: compartmentalize this, Captain. If you start getting any flak, direct it to me. Understood?"_

"Understood, Sir. Um, about the body…"

"_Hmm?"_

"Should I…uh…"

"_Leave it where it is for the time being. Once things settle we'll…" _

"Understood, Sir. Will there be anything else?"

"_Not at this time. Actual clear."_

"_Nemesis_ clear." I put the receiver back onto its cradle, and then braced both hands on the table, trying with all my might to breathe normally. Hard to do when I wanted to double over and just start dry heaving…and not stop until my guts decorated the floor.

Somehow, I was able to keep a clear enough head to straighten up and return to Command. I went through the expected motions, all the while giving my crew surreptitious glances, wondering which if any of them was from The Five.

TBC…


	51. Chapter 51

**Part 51**

**Terran Battlestar **_**Olympus**_  
**VIP Stateroom Charly, B Deck**

**+31:23:41**

**(Richards)**

_They had given me 'Charly' because it was the closest to the elevators, and because the crew had taken __to heart __the CO and CMO's directive that I get some rest. Tranquilizers weren't needed, and I'd barely had time to take off my shoes and doff my jacket before ole Morpheus hit me square between the eyes. I was going to look like a gigantic wrinkle when I finally got back up._

_As it was, my body slumbered while my ever-active brain took me back – yet again – to the day a certain pilot dropped into our collective laps and changed everything._

_

* * *

_

**Two Years Ago**

"**The Pit" (Alaska 'Relic' Holding Site)  
Map Reference November-One-Seven-Stroke-Eight-Eight, Nevada**

**Deck 2 of 'The Hulk'**

**0400 Hours GMT**

The lights that had been strung up along the corridor started flickering. That was my first sign of trouble. I checked my watch, wincing at the realization I'd worked clean through the night again. All I actually had to show for the last ten hours study was a tentative conclusion that the characters that had been etched into the bulkhead were from a slightly different dialect than the pieces of writing we'd found thus far. My back was aching and my eyes were burning; I was just weeping for a cup of bad coffee.

Given I was on contract here, my hours were more or less my own to choose, and I didn't see any reason to stick around there any longer than I already had. Besides, it wasn't like there was anyone on board to miss me. It was time to head back to Nellis Field and get some food.

It was slower going out of _The Hulk_ (I personally called it _The Beast_, as it always felt like the damned thing was _swallowing_ me whole, besides which I'd been a comic book junkie in my long-ago youth) that morning than usual, and I was dismayed at how slowly my work was going. Dawn was just breaking as I exited the control blockhouse, making sure I re-set all alarms and locks as I did; why the need for such security around this find forever eluded me, and Mr. Wisdom's ingrained paranoia did nothing but grate on my nerves.

A peal of thunder rolled overhead and I noticed for the first time the swirl of clouds approaching. I'd worked here long enough to become used to the interesting sights that cropped up from time to time in these skies: funnel clouds appearing and disappearing in otherwise empty air, halos around both the sun and moon in the hours of dawn and twilight, and even the odd optical illusion some nights of multicolored stars racing across the open sky. I wasn't so young to be innocent of the various stories that swirled around Nellis, and was fully aware there were large tracts of land out here that were off-limits to anyone without a constellation's worth of stars on their shoulders. Unlike some, _I_ personally had _zero_ desire to wander out there.

These clouds however sent a distinct chill up my spine, and I resolved to get back to Nellis proper and get under cover a quickly as my ancient hummer's 8-V engine could get me there. I turned onto the dirt and gravel roadway leading back to base when the phone mounted onto the dashboard sounded. It was an open secret that everyone assigned to Nellis was under permanent surveillance and always accessible. I just wished they'd fix the damned ringtones to these phones so I didn't feel it on my back molars.

"Richards," I hissed into the receiver, juggling it and driving one-handed.

"_Where are you?"_ Rear Admiral Ben Rice hissed in reply.

"Um, passing Marker Five coming in from the Pit. What's up?"

"_We need you at Air Control Central. Expedite."_

Rice cut the connection without further discussion or elaboration. I settled the receiver back onto its cradle and muttered "Aye-aye, Sir." Gripping the steering wheel with both hands, I stomped on the accelerator and fought to keep the heavy utility vehicle steady as it shot down the road.

Air Control Central bore on the most passing resemblance to the stereotypical air traffic control tower. For one thing, it was shaped like a globe supported by eight pillars. For another, it was just plain _big_, enough where I still suffered a moment or two of vertigo before hustling over to the main elevator. As a defense I usually walked backwards into the lift, although that morning the normally placid and soothing sky was positively seething with clouds and the first light of dawn.

On a lark, I pulled my cell from my jacket pocket and snapped a picture of the biggest cloud rolling in. It wasn't anything I would send to _National Geographic_, but it'd make nice wallpaper for my terminal at home. That cheered me enough that I stepped into the elevator and entered my pass-code. I drove Wisdom to distraction at insisting upon using a variation of the same five numbers for all my codes; luckily I was blessed with a good memory, otherwise the random jumbles of 4, 6, 9, 1, and 2 that I used to open particular doors would have been nigh unto impossible to remember.

Rice was waiting for me on C Level, which was the only one I was authorized for. Everything above that one required a few engineering degrees to understand. "Crazy weather we're having today," I greeted the Admiral.

Rice didn't so much as smirk. "Darkside Station picked something coming in hot off the orbital plane."

"Comet?"

The Admiral shook his head. "Something that made a course-correction after it passed Luna."

"Ah. And you think it has something to do with Hulk?" It was a vague line of reasoning, but was the only thing I could think that would cause Rice to call me at this hour. The Admiral himself didn't deign to confirm or deny it, but rather directed me to another elevator. I trailed behind without further comment; the smart passenger knows when to keep his trap shut and let the driver drive.

The lift deposited us on Alpha Level, which naturally was the top-most floor of the globe and dealt – so I'd heard – with space surveillance. There were the expected banks of monitors and 3D displays, with the usual number of technicians and controllers around, looking for just like any normal air traffic control station. I didn't know the hardware involved and didn't care to know; tech stuff tended to make my head hurt.

Instead I played the good passenger and let myself be directed to an empty station near the middle of the floor. "Any communication from this thing?" I asked as I sat myself before a circular screen that displayed imagery and notations I couldn't begin to interpret.

Rice stood behind me as I looked about. "We're getting…something. It's faint and intermittent…"

"Ear phones, please?" I requested, suddenly anxious to hear whatever this approaching UFO was squawking, the vague possibility of making first contact tickling my over-exercised ego. I was handed a pair that put me in mind of old-fashioned earmuffs, which I put on without comment, only to be treated to a double earful of static. This prompted me to throw a look back at Rice, who mouthed some command I couldn't hear. The white noise only intensified, leading me to close my eyes and concentrate.

There was indeed something there, a voice so faint and indistinct I wondered how they'd even detected. "Got it," I called out, redoubling my concentration to make out…something…anything…

It took a bit of time – how much, I had no idea – but ultimately the static faded enough where actual words could be made out. For the benefit of my audience, I took up a running dialogue of what I could make out.

"Okay…female…I think…yeah, female…sounds…youngish…no…no, not young…less...saying 'less'…no, not that either…

"Its, uh…its…Latin…something close…dee-lah-shtoh…okay, that sounds more like Russian…weird mix of syllables…can we clear this channel any more? Any…thanks.

"Yeah, definitely female…sounds weird though…young voice, but she's…it's vague…it doesn't sound like she's focusing…

"Language…if that's what she's speaking…what…hold on…is someone recording this? Get this all recorded.

"She's repeating…something…its…it sounds like 'less'…no…'let'…'let'…'go'? 'Let go'? Wait, wait, wait…repeating…definitely her speaking this…yeah…

"'Let me go'…'let'…wait…she's saying something else…I think she's saying something else…'Ish'…'Ish-kay'?

"Can we boost the signal any further? Please?

"Oww! Too much! Tone it down! Thank you…

"More repetition…I'm not sure she's even conscious she's…'Ish'…no…'Ihuh-tuh'…'its'… 'kay'…does she mean kappa? Um, no…literally 'kay'…

"'It's okay'? That's…weird…this a recording, or…no…no, its…it's definitely a live voice…

"'It's okay…let me go…' That's…"

I finally turned to face Rice, who was frowning something fierce. "That's it?" he growled.

I could do was shrug. "Same thing, over and over: 'It's okay; let me go'."

"You sure it's not a recording?"

"You can tell the difference between a live voice and recording: different cadence, tonal shifts, emphasis on syllables. It's subtle, but it's there." Sitting back in my chair, I rubbed my chin and added, "I don't think…I don't think she's entirely conscious. She sounds…disorientated…almost disconnected."

"And you're sure it's a 'she'?"

"Sounds like it. Until we lay eyes on the pilot…how soon, by the way?"

"The UFO is on a final approach. Ten minutes at the outside."

"Landing site quarantined?" I expected I'd be flown in as part of the contact team – given what I'd heard, direct communication might actually be achievable – and I didn't relish the idea of having to do so in a HAZMAT suit.

Rice shook his head, answering "Yes and no." He then turned and headed back towards the elevator we'd arrived in.

I took the hint and hustled to catch up, throwing an order of, "Keep recording!" over my shoulder. I reached the elevator just as it was opening, pushing in beside Rice. "You'll expand on that, right?" I asked as we descended.

"Trajectory was calculated to terminate here," the flag officer stated flatly.

"_Here_ as in…what? North America? Nevada?" I was prevaricating and we both knew it.

"As in _this_ base." You had to admire an officer who could deliver a punch line like that with a completely straight face. I knew Ted Rice well enough however to recognize the signs of impending panic, and was perversely grateful to know I wasn't alone in this.

"Ten minutes, huh?"

"Seven and a half now." With Theodore Rice, you could gauge how close he was to stroking out by the relative depth of his monotone. Right then, if his voice got any flatter, it'd come out as a two-dimensional line. It'd be a damned miracle if his head didn't just explode before the day was out.

Once we were on ground-level, Rice tapped another code into the keypad, which caused the elevator to promptly drop straight down. My stomach actually lurched hard once it stopped, the Admiral seemingly unaffected as the doors opened to near-replica of the control room we'd just left, the sparser staff being the only noticeable difference. "Didn't know there was a basement floor here," I quipped.

"You didn't need to know," Rice quipped right back. "Tracking?"

"U-foe still on projected track, Sir," one of the people present called out. I had no idea which one or even which gender; the impending deadline to first contact was a too-effective filter to my perceptions for little details like that.

"You evacuate the base?" I asked pointlessly.

"No time. We've moved mission critical personnel to shelter, though."

"Us included?"

"Us included. How long?" The last was again directed to the floor.

"Three minutes," was the reply, prompting me to pull out my cell to conduct my own little countdown. I managed to hit the stopwatch at minus two minutes exactly, my eyes actually fixed on the screen showing us all real-time imagery of what was happing top-side.

Here's what I saw:

_The view is on Runway Baker-One, one of the longest on the airbase. The angle is sufficient to show a shinning object in the sky overhead. That object grew quickly in size and brightness, easily swelling double, and then triple its size in mere seconds._

_Within 30 seconds, it resembles nothing more than a ball of fire. "Here's hoping it isn't some super missile or something," I mutter, momentarily convinced it's nothing but a meteorite. _

_The ball of fire quickly showed it was no simple meteorite, visibly swaying and changing the angle of its descent in ways that simple gravity couldn't account for. Its speed began to slow as well, which I would have previously thought impossible._

_By the one minute, fifteen second mark, the meteorite had slowed its descent to a near crawl, which seemed nothing short of miraculous given its previously uncontrolled descent. Flames could still be seen, but it was now clear they were clinging to a distinct shape. _

_That shape quickly grew in size as well as it approached. With that, approach __gave__ detail to it;, these details sharpening further as the flames of re-entry faded. In my sillier moments, I'd daydreamed about what first contact would be like, what the ships would look like, how easy/difficult/impossible communication would be. My favorite scenario was a fleet of saucer-shaped ships descending, spitting out a horde of gray-skinned dwarfs who were telepathic and promised to end world hunger; it was my favorite because, quite frankly, it was the silliest and most impossible of the bunch._

_Standing in that fortified bunker that morning, I was confronted with the truly impossible. I watched, calmly and wholly collected, as a small vessel resembling a flaming lawn dart came to rest on the tarmac. The flames still clinging to its fuselage were bright and aggressive. Rescue crews were surrounding the mini-inferno, dousing the oversized lawn dart in retardant foam, which appeared to only partially worked._

"_So much for getting a live pilot," Rice muttered. Presumably he was referring to the likelihood of the ship's pilot being burnt to a crisp. Not knowing much about the science of combustion, I kept silent and just kept watching._

_Needless to say, we were both brought up short when the rescue crew pulled what looked like a humanoid form out of that wreck. At first and even second glance, it looked like my fantasy of a non-human alien was bearing out, the head of this figure appearing overly large and bulbous. A closer look, thanks to Rice ordering the imagery to zoom in on the figure, revealed the head was in fact a helmet of some kind. The faceplate was clouded, so there was no way to see who or what might be inside._

_I felt a stab of alarm as I notice a couple of the firefighters having to pull back from the wreck, parts of their bunker gear now on fire! Their colleagues were quick to attend to them, dousing those too-bright flames with the same retardant foam, which thankfully appeared to work better for them than for the aircraft. _

_Rice turned away from the screen and headed back to the elevator; I trailing along uninvited, although he didn't raise any objections to my doing so. Once we were inside and ascending, I broke the silence and asked, "The pilot or whatever it is…it's going into quarantine, right?"_

"_That's the plan," the Admiral confirmed. "Hopefully that fire burned away any bugs they were carrying."_

"_Think she's still alive?" I questioned. Rice simply shrugged and exited the car once the doors opened. Again, I followed without invitation or direction; either my stock had gone up in this project – I'd previously had to keep base security appraised of my every move – or the Admiral was simply too distracted by events to worry over it._

_The next hours were a bit of a blur, such that I recalled only broad scenes more than the fine details: _

_My watching HAZMAT-clothed medical personnel carefully unwrapping the pilot from her impossibly intact flight suit._

_My staring at the abundance of artifacts the pilot's gear had yielded._

_My sitting through pointless briefings concerning her appearance, condition, measurable health, et cetera, et cetera._

_My standing in a darkened hallway, the pilot pushing a stolen sidearm into my back, while screaming her alien dialect in my ears at the security personnel barring her way to freedom._

_My waving off still more security as I stood on the tarmac and watched the pilot break down into tears while she rattled off the names of the Zodiac as she turned in a slow circle, her eyes fixed upon the night sky the whole time._

_That last scene induced a bit of a headache. More accurately, the base-wide alarm that was blaring induced a bit of a headache…except I'd never recalled such an alarm sounding before. It wasn't a distant chime, either; __it__ sounded like it was buzzing right next to my left ear…

* * *

_

Prying my eyes open, I realized it was no phantom noise that was lancing my ear, but the very real and very present chime of the room's wall-phone. It wasn't actually that loud, but to my sleep-drunk senses it might as well have been a buzz saw on my eardrums. With great reluctance – and still greater effort – I stumbled to my feet and managed to fumble the receiver to my ear. "Richards," I slurred, giving myself a hard shake.

"_Comms Unit, sir,"_ an unfamiliar voice reported.

"Go ahead."

"_Admiral Rice directs you be informed SEC-GEN has arrived and is shuttling over."_

I was strongly tempted to just hang up, stumble back my temporary bed, and pull the covers over my head for the rest of the century. There was no earthly reason for my needing to be any further part of this, especially given the relevant players among the Colonials already knew about Starbuck's presence here.

Instead I forced myself to ask "ETA and location?"

Tbc…

* * *

_De author seez:_ I realize this isn't the kind of update everyone was hoping for. I'm afraid this entire years has been (literally) hell to live through and not very conducive to actual writing. Ironically this chapter contains a lot of images and dialogue I'd originally dreamed up for this story.

I know I say this often, but let me repeat: I *will* finish this story! Hopefully now that I've gotten various legal and housing and financial and marital and professional and familiar and emotional and medical and psychological and logistical complications smoothed out (insofar as one ever has such complications smoothed out) I'll be able to devote more time to this and my other stories. Thanks everyone for sticking with this for so long.

Until next time...


End file.
